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MY HUSBAND, STRIDING ON AHEAD DID NOT NOTICE THE 
UNCOMPLIMENTARY LABEL ATTACHED TO THE GOWN OF HIS 
SPOUSE.' 9 



THE 



STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR 



BY 



JULIA CLARK HALLAM. 



SIOUX CITY, IOWA, 
1900. 



THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
One Copy Received 

APR, 1 1901 

Copyright entry 

CLJvl. if, 'tfc f 
CLASS O/XXc. No. 

COPY B. 



PERKINS BROS. CO., 

Printers and Stationers, Sioux City, Iowa. 



• e • c 



* g & « c 



ffl? 



Introduction. 

The European trip which is described in 
this little story was the culmination of a life- 
time of hopes and anticipations. I realize that 
impressions of so brief a journey will seem 
extremely crude and "scrappy," particularly 
to those who have spent years upon the same 
ground. I have told the story as it actually 
occurred, not assuming to know, where I did 
not know, and endeavoring not to take up 
space with details and facts to be easily found 
elsewhere. 

My husband and myself made up the party 
"conducted by ourselves," and the experi- 
ences are individual. The story was begun 
as a simple journal of the trip, with no 
thought of its ever being published in book 
form. 

My largest hope for it is that it may inspire 
some to "see for themselves." Of course, in 
"seeing for oneself," many things are disap- 
pointing, but on the whole there will be added 
to life that which can be added in no other 

way - . J. O. H. 

Sioux City, Iowa, August 17, 1900. 



contents. 

Chapter 

I. Getting Started. The Boundless Ocean. Shakes- 
peare's Home. 
II. Oxford. First Impressions of London. 

III. Old Westminster and Its Stories. St. Paul's. • 

IV. Some Things in the Museums. England's His- 

toric Prison. 
V. Queen Victoria and Windsor Castle. Hampton 
Court. 
VI. Woman's Clubs of London. A Woman in the 

House of Commons. 
VII. The Picture Galleries. Miscellaneous Objects of 

Interest. 
VIII. Hyde Park. White Chapel. Across the Channel. 
IX. A Delightful Trip on the Historic Rhine. Wies- 
baden. Heidelberg. 
X. Heidelberg University, and Some Other Expe- 
riences. BlacK Forest and Falls of the Rhine. 
XI. Zurich. Entrancing Beauties About Lucerne. 
The Ride up Mount Rigi. 
XII. Leave Switzerland for Historic Italy. Cathedral 
and Other Art Works of Milan. 

XIII. Venice Fulfills Highest Anticipations. The Ar- 

rival. 

XIV. Piazza of St. Mark's. Bridge of Sighs. The Old 

Bell Tower. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER 

XV. Delights of a Visit to Florence. How We 

Reached the City. 
XVI. Rare Pleasures Among Great Masterpieces of 

Art. 
XVII. We Reach the Eternal City. St. Peter's. 
XVIII. The Capitoline Hill. Forum and Colosseum. In- 
teresting Experiences. 
XIX. The Pincian Hill. A Roman Villa. Pisa and Its 
Wonderful Tower. 
XX. We Face Towards Home. The Alps Again. 

Other Experiences. 
XXI. A Visit to the Vale of Chamonix. Wonders About 

Mount Blanc. 
XXII. Paris at Last. Tomb of Napoleon. The Venus. 
Experiences. 

XXIII. Interesting Monuments. Bois de Boulogne. 

Tuilleries. French Market. 

XXIV. Late Hours on the Boulevards. Characteristic 

Street Incident. Shopping in Paris. 
XXV. Enough of Paris. On to Scotland. Melrose and 
Abbotsford. 
XXVI. Stirling Castle. The Trossachs. Experiences. 
Glasgow. Home. 



THE STORY*OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER I. 

GETTING STARTED. THE BOUNDLESS OCEAN. 
SHAKESPEARE'S HOME. 

There are few places more full of active in- 
terest than the wharf of a great ocean 
steamer upon the eve of its departure. The 
ship hands, with their peculiar intonations, 
are intent upon loading on the cargo. Bag- 
gage is arriving constantly. Passengers are 
running hither and thither to discover and 
identify their own particular property. 

We arrived at the dock in the midst of this 
exciting scene, and, being anxious to make a 
study of its details, our own baggage having 
been duly arranged for, we seated ourselves 
upon an innocent looking steamer trunk, 
which happened to be convenient, and pro- 
ceeded to do so. When tired of this occupa- 
tion, we rose and walked on, all unconscious 
of the fact that I had been sitting upon a 
wet label, which, when I got up, remained 
affixed to the back breadth of my gown. My 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

husband, striding on ahead, and peering 
through his glasses at the sights around him, 
failed entirely to observe that his spouse was 
advertised in large red letters as "not want- 
ed." I might have worn this uncompliment- 
ary legend to the end of the voyage had not 
the gentlemanly room steward smilingly 
asked permission to remove it. Our experi- 
ence in "being abroad" began early, for we 
sailed in an English ship, and I shall never 
forget the entirely unlooked for feeling of 
remonstrance which filled me when I discov- 
ered that it was not "Old Glory" which was 
waving over me. Just a word about the won- 
derful experience of finding oneself for the 
first time out in mid-ocean. Nothing but the 
vast heaving undulating prairies of gray 
water stretching out until they meet the 
gray skv coming down to meet them from 
above. The ship is but a speck in the midst 
of it all. The motion of the ship reminded me 
of an animal springing. It takes three 
plunges bow down, stern up, then stops and 
quivers as if getting ready for another spring. 
Then the plunging and quivering is repeated, 
and the process goes on hour after Hour, day 
and night, until the wonder is, not that peo- 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

pie are seasick, but that any human consti- 
tution should be able to endure the unnat- 
ural motion. I noticed the remarkable popu- 
larity among the passengers of the refrain, 
u Oh, Mister Captain, stop the ship; I want to 
get off and walk." 

When the wind blows a gale, the gray 
prairies are transformed into white-capped 
hills. It seemed to me that the stoutest heart 
must quake a little when the great mountains 
of water come rolling down upon the ship> 
with a crash and a roar. It is peculiar how 
large the steamer seemed when she lay at the 
dock. It hardly seemed like leaving the land 
to walk on to the commodious deck. But when 
in mid-ocean how tiny she is! The waves had 
a fascination for me, which I confess I never 
tried to resist. They were so constantly in 
motion that it seemed as if they must be 
living things. 

I loved to stand and w T atch them as they 
curled and broke around the bow of the 
steamer, and I wished that I might see a mer- 
maid rising" from the depths, with, her stream- 
ing hair, or* rolling in those delightful little 
cradles which keep making and unmaking 
themselves. It seemed to me that a mermaid 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

would not be any more wonderful than the 
other things about us. It rained part of the 
time, and the waves blew up so that you could 
taste the salt water on your lips, and still 
there was an irresistible fascination about 
being out on the deck, just as near the great 
billows as it was possible to get. 

By the time we had begun to feel as if we 
had never been anywhere all our lives ex- 
cept tossing about in an ocean steamer, we 
reached Liverpool. Liverpool is a very in- 
teresting city from a commercial point of 
view, being, I believe, the second largest 
shipping point in the world. But historically 
it is of much less interest than many other 
places in England, so w T e went at once to War- 
wick, a typical old time English village, and 
interesting to Americans on account of the 
beautiful castle there w T hich has been kept in 
a perfect state of preservation, and is occu- 
pied by the present Earl of Warwick. The 
castle is a magnificent stone structure, built 
around a central square where the visitor is 
greeted by the sight of an extensive lawn, 
broken by broad walks and brilliant flower 
gardens. A guide showed us through a num- 
ber of rooms which were beautiful with ele- 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

gant tapestry and antique wood carving, and 
the rarest of china, upon which the kings and 
queens of England have dined. There were 
also beautiful paintings by such artists as 
Holbein, Teniers, Rubens, Vandyke and 
others. The part which interested me most of 
all was the remains of the old moat which 
surrounded the entire castle, and which was 
kept filled with water in the stormy days of 
England's history. The draw-bridge is now 
overgrown with vines and moss. We visited 
the ancient castle of Kenilworth, which is in 
the vicinity, upon the same day. The latter 
castle is built upon very much the same plan 
as Warwick, but at the present time is a 
rapidly decaying ruin. As we peered into 
its dark cells, towers, and subterranean 
chambers, we were obliged to supply with 
our imaginations what the tooth of time had 
so ruthlessly destroyed. But the weird sur- 
roundings made it easy to bring back those 
regal days before Cromwell took it into his 
head to batter down the baronial strongholds 
of England. From Kenilworth we rode to 
Stratford-on-Avon through a country so beau- 
tiful as to suggest the existence of a continu- 
ous private park. The roads are broad and 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

perfectly kept, and the meadows were at that 
time (early in July) brilliant with scarlet 
poppies. These flowers, which grow wild in 
great profusion in many parts of England, 
are a great nuisance to farmers, but add im- 
mensely to the beauty of the scene for those 
who are simply there to enjoy the beautiful 
things wherever they are to be found. Shortly 
after noon we found ourselves driving up the 
long street where stands the house in which 
the immortal Shakespeare was born. The 
house looks exactly like the pictures of it 
which are familiar to all lovers. and students 
of Shakespeare. A cord comes out from some- 
where above the door which the visitor pulls 
in order to gain admission. The interior of the 
house impressed me much more than did the 
outside. The apparent age of the structure 
was the most interesting part. The floors 
throughout, which the attendant assured us 
were the very same upon which Shakespeare 
himself had trod were rugged and uneven. 
The ceiling and walls were propped and but- 
tressed in order to keep them from falling 
down upon the heads of the enthusiastic de- 
votees who come in crowds to worship there. 
Climbing a pair of rickety stairs, we saw the 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

room in which the poet was born. No furni- 
ture remains there but a table and a couple of 
chairs, and the original floor of this room has 
been overlaid, with coarse planks similar to 
the original, but still not the same as the ones 
upon which the baby feet of the great dram- 
atist first learned to carry their owner about. 
Upon the small panes of glass in the window 
may be seen the names of the great person- 
ages who at different times have been visitors 
to this historic spot. The names of Thomas 
Carlyle and Walter Scott were pointed out to 
us, but they were so dim that I hardly think 
we should have discovered them unaided. In 
another part of the house (for an extra fee) 
we saw a number of the personal effects of 
Shakespeare, such as his ring, watch, chair 
and so forth. There were also some original 
manuscripts, a copy of every edition of his 
works which has ever been printed, and a 
large number of portraits of himself and dif- 
ferent members of his family. I must confess, 
however, that these things did not move or 
thrill me. I was much disappointed that they 
did not, for the sensation of being thrilled is 
always a pleasant one, and I am sure is al- 
ways considered one of the attractions of a 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

trip abroad. When I came to reason with 
myself as to why I was not thrilled by the 
sight of these souvenirs of greatness I de- 
cided that it was because I had Jieard so much 
about them that they seemed old, and fur- 
ther, because there was a feeling in my heart 
all the time that many of them were not gen- 
uine. There were so many years during which 
Shakespeare was neither appreciated nor 
understood that it seems altogether improb- 
able that there should be so many original 
Shakespeare souvenirs in a good state of 
preservation. 

From the house we walked to what is 
known as "Shakespeare's Church," which is 
also his burial place. This is a building 
which has been very much idealized by the 
pictures of it. It is not beautiful from an 
architectural standpoint, and it is very much 
discolored with age. It is surrounded by a 
cemetery full of moulding tombstones. The 
river Avon, however, which flows back of the 
church, is extremelv pretty, and the popular 
view, which contains a portion of the church 
peeping from among the trees and a little 
glimpse of the Avon in the foreground, is 
certainly attractive. The modern memorial 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

to Shakespeare, a handsome theater, is one of 
the "sights" of the city, although one cannot 
but wonder where the people come from to 
patronize so vast a structure. Ann Hatha- 
way's cottage, which is well represented by 
the pictures of it, is about a mile and a half 
beyond the town. I confess to have been in- 
terested in the little shops, w T hich abound in 
knick-knacks, adapted to attract the verdant 
tourist. I would fain purchase a "bust" of 
Shakespeare, but as we had many miles of 
travel before us I thought that it would prob- 
ably "bust" before we reached home. But 
when I found that the price of the "bust" was 
only a sixpence, I decided to invest, feeling 
that Ave would not be "bust" even though the 
"bust" did "bust." ' On the whole, the town, 
itself contained more of interest for me than 
any particular thing in it. 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER II. 

OXFORD. FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF LONDON. 

We had only planned one more stop in Eng- 
land before going to the. "great city" — Lon- 
don. This stop was to be at the historic town 
of Oxford, whose world-wide reputation as a 
college center always attracts the American 
tourist. Besides the college, or rather the 
group of twenty colleges, which has made this 
English town so famous, it was the scene of 
the great religious conflict of the sixteenth 
century, which resulted in the burning at the 
stake of Bishops Latimer, Bidley and Cran- 
mer. We were shown through St. Mary's 
church, where these noted men were tried and 
condemned to death. It is here, also, that the 
unfortunate Amy Eobsart, whose story has 
been made familiar to American readers 
through Scott's "Kenilworth," is said to be 
buried. These historical matters were faith- 
fully expounded to us by a chubby little 
woman who was cleaning the church when 
we went in. In return for her information she 



10 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

gratefully pocketed the sixpence which was 
offered her. Later we repaired to that street 
where the iron cross sunk into the pavement 
marks the identical spot where the bishops 
suffered martyrdom, while in a finely located 
position a short distance from the cross 
stands the beautiful monument which has 
been 'erected to their memory. The monu- 
ment is a tall, tower-like structure, upon the 
top of which, looking in three different direc- 
tions, stand the figures of the three bishops. 
The name of each is inscribed below his form 
in letters so large that all who wish to read 
them may do so. The citizens of Oxford all 
seem familiar with the history connected 
with these memorials, and take great pride in 
pointing them out to the visitors. To return 
to the college — one little incident in connec- 
tion with our search for it will illustrate some 
of the difficulties of travelers, and at the same 
time illustrate the exceeding slowness with 
which some minds adjust themselves to an 
unfamiliar form of expression. We were ex- 
ploring the town on foot, and at the same 
time making our way in what we supposed to 
be the direction of the college. We w^ere in 
fact directly opposite one of the college build- 



ll 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ings. So unlike a college did this building 
appear that we were constrained to ask a 
shopkeeper standing in front of his store if 
he would direct us to "Christ's College." He 
looked at us in blank amazement, shook his 
head and said there was no such building in 
town. We looked at each other and debated 
as to what was the matter with our question, 
for we knew we must be very near the build- 
ing we were seeking. Finally it occurred to 
us that it was sometimes called "Christ's 
Church College," and we repeated our former 
question, putting in the word "church." The 
face of the shopkeeper brightened up at once, 
and he pointed across the way to an expanse 
of dingy, discolored wall, which reminded me 
more of soldiers' barracks than of college 
buildings. An old man was at the door who, 
for a compensation, w r ould be glad to show us 
through all of the buildings and describe 
them to us. We accepted his services, and the 
next two hours were spent in wandering 
through the historic halls, chapels and gal- 
leries of old Oxford. The different colleges 
are strung along together, the walls of one 
joining closely to the walls of that next to it. 
Each college is built around a beautifully 



12 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

kept quadrangle. We never could have under- 
stood just what the arrangement was if we 
had only obtained a view from the ground. 
But we climbed to the top of the "Camera," 
which is the reading room of the famous 
"Bodlian Library," where we obtained a 
beautiful and comprehensive view of all of 
the buildings, as well as of the rest of the 
city. I suppose that there exists nowhere 
upon this round earth literary relics and 
treasures of more intrinsic value than those 
which repose under the strictest watch and 
guard within the w^alls of the Bodlian Li- 
brary. So precious are many of the things 
which are kept in the "Camera" that notices 
are kept posted about the building imposing 
the strictest fine and penalty upon any one 
who shall bring either fire or light into 
it. And this, too, although the build- 
ing is composed entirely of stone and iron. 
One has to be exceedingly learned to appreci- 
ate the things which are found at Oxford. I 
felt that I knew very little, and wished that I 
could sit down and study about some of the 
things, but it is quite unnecesssary to say 
that I did not do this, for it was time to go to 
London. As the stuffy little compartment 

13 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

cars which obtain throughout Europe bore us 
on — not so very swiftly — to the great metrop- 
olis which, though not the end of our journey, 
still was in a sense the Mecca of our 
desires, I experienced a most curious sensa- 
tion. It was probably a touch of that feeling 
which is wont to come to the mind when a 
desire which has existed in the heart for a 
lifetime is about to be fulfilled. It is a mix- 
ture of reluctance, hesitation and fear; an 
unexpected desire to postpone the fulfillment 
of the hope just upon the eve of its realiza- 
tion. 

But the cars did not stop for that, although 
they seemed to stop for nearly everything 
else, so slow was their progress. The good 
American custom of "calling the stations" is 
not indulged in on European roads, and the 
traveler is left to the delightful experience of 
finding out for himself at what station the 
train may be stopping. It was just in the 
early twilight of a July afternoon that we dis- 
covered by the bustle both inside and outside 
of the train that we were actually approach- 
ing the "biggest city* in the world." As we 
stepped out upon the platform I drew a long 
breath, not exactly knowing what to expect 



14 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

in London. But there was nothing unusual 
or impresssive about the appearance of the 
station. A long line of the characteristic 
English cabs were drawn up near, while be- 
yond was a "perfect swarm" of 'buses. The 
first thing which one notices about the Lon- 
don 'buses is that there are seats upon the top, 
which enable the person riding to obtain a 
good view of the streets and the crowds which 
swarm through them at all hours of the day 
and night, while the 'bus trundles along upon 
its leisurely way — for no one in London is in 
a hurry. 

We had previously learned that a favorite 
rendezvous for transient tourists was "Rus- 
sell Square." Accordingly, as we neared this 
locality we clambered down from our ele- 
vated position of observation on top of the 
'bus. We had no trouble in finding the long 
row of houses where every door bears the 
legend, in English fashion, "Board and Besi- 
dence," and soon found ourselves partaking 
of a bountiful dinner upon w T hich meal the 
English landlady particularly prides herself. 
As some daylight still remained after din- 
ner, we again betook ourselves to the street, 
and, hailing the first 'bus which we met, rode 



15 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

until far into the night. The streets* are well 
lighted, and the experience was most novel 
and interesting. When we returned to our 
room and retired for our "first night in Lon- 
don/' we were somewhat overawed, I confess, 
by all we had seen and heard during the few 
short hours since we had set foot in London. 
But there was a sense of triumph in that very 
feeling of awe, because we felt that if we 
should die that night we should not have to 
go to the next world without having seen the 
largest city in this one. 



16 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER III. 

OLD WESTMINSTER AND ITS STORIES. ST. PAUL'S 
CATHEDRAL. 

The next morning, when consulting as to 
which of the many interesting and important 
portions of the city we should visit first, it 
seemed to make very little difference to me. 
I felt that "most any old sight" would do, so 
long as it was in London. We found, upon 
consulting^ the guide book (our most constant 
friend during our weeks of travel) that tour- 
ists usually went first to "Westminster 
Abbey". Of course, we did not want to be 
out of fashion, so we decided we would go to 
"Westminster Abbey" first, too. This his- 
toric structure is a long way from Russell 
Square, and we were obliged to get on and 
off of three different 'buses before we reached 
the "English Temple of Fame," situated upon 
the low grounds on the left bank of the 
Thames. When we finally entered its sacred 
precincts the regular ten o'clock services had 
begun. We walked in at the door of the north 



17 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

transept, and took our seats among the quiet 
worshipers, quite a number of whom were 
carrying red guide books like ourselves. I 
am frank to say that my first impression of 
" Westminster Abbey" was one of the keenest 
disappointment. As the organ played, and 
the vested choir chanted its responses, there 
was plenty of time for the impression to sink 
deeply into my mind. The interior seemed to 
me to be dark, dingy and stuffy. The walls, 
pillars and floors are dark and discolored 
with age. The statuary, with which the place 
is almost crowded, is so poorly arranged and 
lighted that one could hardly enjoy it no mat- 
ter how fine it might be, and some of it is very 
far from being fine. In my disappointment, 
my criticism went to the extreme, and I de- 
clared to myself that it was suitable neither 
for a church or an art gallery, but was merely 
a dingy old cemetery, which compared very 
poorly with the beautiful places filled with 
flowers, fountains .and sunshine, where we 
lay our dead away in America. The "Poets' 
Corner," which we examined duly after the 
service was over, seemed so small as to be 
ridiculous in comparison with the ideal which 
I had formed of it in my own mind. It was 



18 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

only after visiting the Abbey a number of 
times, occasionally when there was almost no- 
body else there, and after reviewing by myself 
the part which this building has played in 
the history of England, that I came in any 
degree to appreciate it I learned to realize 
that the very reason why it was so interesting 
was because it was so dark and dingy and old. 
I learned that if a thing were only old enough, 
it was not necessary for it to be beautiful in 
order to command respect and attention. Its 
very ugliness only added to its importance. 
We visited the Abbey many times and 
studied its various details with care and con- 
scientiousness. After having done this, I am 
free to say that there is no place in all Eng- 
land which I recall more frequently or with 
more pleasure than this. 

Among the things which impressed me the 
most strongly was thQ plain stone in the floor 
at the north transept marked "William 
Ewart Gladstone, died 1898. " After a good 
deal of hunting we found the stone in the 
floor of the main portion of the church which 
bears the words, now somewhat worn, "O 
rare Ben Jonson." The day was unusually 
dark, but by the help of the guide book we 



19 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



located the spot and peered through the 
gloom until we had read the words in full. 
Robert Browning's name is on the floor of the 
poets' corner not far from the graves of Dick- 
ens, Spencer, Chaucer and others, w T hile there 
are statues to the memory of Addison, Ma- 
caulay, Thackeray, Goldsmith, Shakespeare, 
Burns, Southey, Campbell, Bacon, Milton, Dry- 
den and many more. Our American poet, H. 
W. Longfellow, has the distinguished honor 
of a place among these noted English men of 
letters. Jenny Lind Goldschmidt, repre- 
sented by a medallion portrait head, and a 
mask of Queen Elizabeth were the only trib- 
utes to women which I was able to discover 
in the "Poets' Corner." At the back or east 
end of the church are a series of rooms called 
the "Royal Chapels." They bear the names 
of different kings and contain some of the 
most precious historical relics in all England. 
There is on exhibition the chair in which all 
the sovereigns of England have been crowned 
since the year 1660, and the famous r ^Stone of 
Scone" upon which the Scottish kings used 
to receive their coronation. I remember that 
my mind went back to the school days when I 
studied English history, and was attracted 



20 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

by the euphony of that expression. Little did 
I then think that the interesting original was 
in existence, and that it would ever be my 
lot to see it. Very many of the royal per- 
sonages of England lie buried in these chap- 
els, among them the far famed sovereign, 
Queen Elizabeth. I was constrained to linger 
for some time before the marble figure of this 
wonderful woman, with which her tomb was 
adorned, as I f have learned to look upon her, 
with all of her weakness and strength, as one 
of the epoch makers in the history of the 
world. I seemed to see behind those clear cut 
features and that high forehead, something 
of the power which made her the force she 
was in her time. A statue of Elizabeth's sis- 
ter Mary lies upon the tomb of the latter lady 
side by side with the statue of the Queen. We 
went aw^ay from Westminster Abbey w T ith the 
feeling that if we only knew all that had 
happened in, and in connection with, this 
noted sanctuary we would indeed be histor- 
ians to be proud of. But we were filled with 
the vague fear that even what we had gleaned 
that day, added to our previous study in this 
connection, would be crowded out of our 
minds by the many things which we were 



21 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

planning to see before our journey should -be 
at an end. 

After exploring Westminster Abbey it 
seemed natural that our next visit should be 
to London's other great church, St. Paul's 
Cathedral. Of course, before we started, we 
knew the things which the guide book tells 
about the building, and which almost every- 
one knows whether he ever goes to London 
or not. Among these items of information 
were the following: that it is the third 
largest church in the world; that it was de- 
signed by Sir Christopher Wren; w T as begun 
in 1675 and completed in 1710; that it is in 
the form of a Latin cross surmounted by a 
large dome, admitted to be the most beauti- 
ful in the world. We also knew that 
there was a crypt down below, and a whisper- 
ing gallery above somewhere, besides other 
things which we had read about, but could 
not remember. We had heard that most 
tourists consider it dark and bare. But 
these details mean comparatively little 
until one has seen the real things for 
oneself. We found it quite true, as the 
guide book had said, that the cathedral 
is so hedged in by other buildings that it is 



22 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

impossible to secure a satisfactory view of 
the exterior except from one or two points 
some distance away. Directly in front of the 
church is a large and handsome statue of 
Queen Anne, with England, France, Ireland 
and America at her feet. What impressed us 
most about this statue, which incidentally 
was very beautiful, was the spectacle of 
America at th^e feet of a queen. However, we 
easily consoled ourselves with the assurance 
that as long as America was not at the feet 
of Queen Anne or anybody else, the statue did 
not cut much figure. The exterior and even 
the beautiful dome are so discolored with age 
and weather as to be much less beautiful than 
they had been represented. The interior is 
very vast and imposing, although bare, as had 
been suggested. We soon recognized the fact 
that the military heroes of England were hon- 
ored at St. Paul's as were the literary heroes 
and statesmen at Westminster. The regular 
ten o'clock service began shortly after we 
entered the church, and in conformity with 
the numerous placards about the w T alls re- 
questing visitors not to move about at such 
times, we took our seats and listened. The 
atmosphere of the church was cool and quiet, 

23 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

and the thick walls made the hum and bustle 
of the city seem a long way off. There were 
very few people there and the order of service 
was exactly similar to what we had listened 
to the day before. The organ is said to be one 
of the very finest in the world, but to our un- 
educated ears it sounded the same as other 
organs. As we sat in the worshipers' seats 
we had an excellent view of the magnificent 
windows which fill the entire end of the apse. 
We were seated directly under the great 
dome, and as we looked up we could get the 
full effect of its wonderful height. The dis- 
tance was so great that it was impossible to 
discern the nature of the decorations with 
which the interior was embellished, and I 
was impressed with a peculiar sense of little- 
ness and incapacity to appreciate the exterior 
"bigness." As we had been frankly informed 
that the statuary, with which the church was 
not crowded, was for the most part bad, we 
did not spend much time upon it in the tour 
of exploration which we took after the service 
was over. I remember the most distinctly a 
bronze figure of the Duke of Wellington. The 
hero was represented lying upon a lofty sar- 
cophagus, overshadowed by a rich marble 

24 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

canopy. Above his recumbent figure are 
colossal groups of "Valor" and "Cowardice," 
"Truth" and "Falsehood." I found that the 
part of the church which interested me most 
was that about which I had heard the least, 
viz.: the crypt or basement. I think I was 
interested in this because what was shown 
there indicated a characteristic of the Eng- 
lish people which accounts for much of their 
history. I refer to the wonderful reverence 
with which they cherish the memories of their 
military heroes. We paid a liberal fee before 
being allowed to descend the well worn stone 
stairs into the large dark room which consti- 
tuted the crypt. Part of the room was used 
for a chapel and the center of it was cut off 
from the rest by a heavy iron railing. Visit- 
ors are only admitted to this sanctuary under 
the strictest supervision of a guide, who un- 
locks the gate when a sufficiently large num- 
ber of persons appear. And why should not 
this spot be jealously guarded? It contains 
the precious dust of England's pride and 
glory. Directly under the massive dome in 
a triple coffin, the outer one of which is of 
black marble, lies Lord Nelson, the hero of 
Trafalgar. To the left, in a chamber lighted 



25 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

by four candelabra of polished granite, is the 
tomb of the Duke of Wellington. This is a 
hugh block of porphyry, resting upon a gran- 
ite base. 

Perhaps the most impressive, because the 
most unusual exhibit in this remarkable 
place, is the immense funeral car constructed 
after the death of the Duke upon which he 
was borne to his tomb. This is said to have 
been made from the guns captured in his vic- 
tories. It has dx wheels and was drawn by 
twelve coal black horses, six abreast. The 
vehicle is very high, and the coffin rested upon 
a high staging, and was covered with a black 
velvet cloth embroidered in gold. How can 
such tributes a*s these fail to place military 
achievements among the very first in the scale 
of virtues? 

The guide viewed each visitor with suspi- 
cion, and he looked at me as if he thought 
it was my intention in some mysterious way 
to seize the precious ashes and make away 
with them. I felt like telling him that I con- 
sidered it a sufficient honor just to be allowed 
to gaze upon the tombs of these great men, 
and that I should be very much embarrassed 
to know what to do with the sacred remains, 



26 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

even if I had them in my possession. If I had 
ventured to express any sentiments of this 
kind I think I should have added that I came 
from America, where we had military heroes 
of our own, second neither to Nelson or Well- 
ington, great though these men were. I was 
thinking of that beautiful tomb at North 
Riverside, New York. And even in the pres- 
ence of all this greatness I found myself 
humming, "And Dewey feel discouraged? I 
do not think w T e do." There really does seem 
to be a deep seated fear lest some enemy of 
England shall steal away those honored 
bones. The whispering gallery, which we 
reached after climbing a number of steps, did 
not interest me as much as I had expected it 
would. The man who stays there to do the 
whispering for the visitors whispered for us 
the same speech which he has been whisper- 
ing to tourists for the last decade or more, 
and it sounded trite. The stone gallery a 
number of flights above commands a fine view 
of the city of London, but, as is usually the 
case, the city was so completely shrouded in 
mist that very little of it could be seen from 
the top of this most prominent building. 



27 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER IV. 

SOME THINGS IN THE MUSEUMS. ENGLAND'S HIS- 
TORIC PRISON, THE "TOWER." 

It seemed a very natural transition from the 
churches to the museums, and so our next 
visit after St. Paul's was to that marvelous 
collection which all the world has been taxed 
to supply and which is known all over the 
world, viz. : the "British Museum." It was 
somewhat of a rest to our overtaxed financial 
resources to find that admission to every part 
of the Museum was absolutely free, as it is 
owned and sustained by the British govern- 
ment. Perhaps it is not surprising that there 
is so much here of interest to the student of 
history and science when we remember that 
the collection has been going on for over a 
century, and it has had at its disposal not 
only the financial resources of England, but 
also that all-important factor of learned, 
discriminating and far-seeing persons to 
whom the collection has been intrusted. If 
I were asked to tell what is in the British Mu- 



2.8 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

seum I should have to answer "everything." 
And, furthermore, the classification is so re- 
markably perfect that the casual visitor can 
carry away much more than could be ex- 
pected from so vast a variety of interesting 
objects. In many departments a different 
room is devoted to the collections from each 
different country, so that one can soon find 
out where his particular interest lies, and de- 
vote himself exclusively to that part. Then 
the articles in each room are divided into dif- 
ferent periods, which is an added assistance 
to the observer in avoiding the confusion of 
things which is more than likely to occur 
when the attempt is made to see many ob- 
jects in a short time. This arrangement is 
slightly varied in the "Ethnological Display," 
which for me was one of the most attractive 
in the entire building. A very long gallery 
contains this display, a portion of which is 
devoted to each nation. It seemed as if the 
whole world with all its progress and achieve- 
ments was spread out before me there. The 
exhibits were varied, in a perfect condition, 
and carefully labeled. After I had traversed 
the hall for a number of times, I had the feel- 
ing that I had not been confined within those 



29 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

four walls all the morning, but had been 
wandering in ruder and wilder countries, as 
the different methods, the implements and so- 
cial customs were so perfectly reproduced 
here. I also found a great deal of pleasure in 
the inspection of the display of modern Chi- 
nese and Japanese decorated china. But the 
objects in the museum which I had most of 
all desired to see were the "Elgin Marbles." 
These famous works of art, as everyone 
knows, are the remains of the sculptures exe- 
cuted by Phidias to adorn the Parthenon at 
Athens, and are considered the finest speci- 
mens of plastic art in existence. They were 
brought from Athens by Lord Elgin in 1816, 
and sold to the British government for the 
sum of £35,000 ($175,000). I felt that I should 
like to be able to give enough study to the 
"marbles" to discover for myself what there 
was about them to excite and sustain the en- 
thusiasm of so many students of art through- 
out so many years. They are so badly defaced 
by time and weather that a casual glance did 
not reveal, to me at least, the beauty which 
others have found in them, But as occasion- 
ally a perfect hand or foot revealed itself, or 
a head poised upon a neck of marvelous beau- 



30 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ty appeared unimpaired, I felt that I could in 
a small measure distinguish the difference 
between them and the numerous copies of 
them which now flood the civilized world. I 
learned among other things that sculpture is 
one of the most difficult kinds of art to re- 
produce. It would almost seem unnecessary 
to go to Greece when so much of her finest 
art is in London. In the case of the Elgin 
Marbles, every effort has been made to give 
the observer as perfect and as clear an idea 
as possible of the way in which they origi- 
nally appeared. Many other interesting fea- 
tures of Athens have also been reproduced 
as nearly like the original as could be. There 
is a model of the Parthenon, both as it w T as 
in its prime and as it appears today. One 
other thing which I recall with distinctness 
and pleasure is the "Mausoleum Boom." Here 
is all that remains of the celebrated monu- 
ment once reckoned among the seven wonders 
of the world, which was erected by Artemisia, 
in honor of Mausolus, her husband, and King 
of ('aria. This king through the devotion of 
his wife has given us our word "mausoleum." 
Colossal fragments remain to testify to 
the devotion of Artemisia, such as a mam- 



31 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

moth arm, hand or foot. Supremely interest- 
ing are the parts of horses and the chariot 
wheels, which make one think of giants and 
their huge belongings. 

We also visited London's other great "Curi- 
osity Shop," the South Kensington Museum, 
located in the western portion of the city. The 
collection here is not so large as at the other 
museum, and for that reason there is more 
pleasure in visiting it (although it is not so 
well classified). The objects seemed to me to 
be more artistic and not so dingy with age. 
There were copies of the world's greatest 
pieces of statuary, which, as we had not up 
to that time seen the originals, we en- 
joyed to the full. The art treasures of Italy, 
especially, find reproduction here. There 
were many other interesting collections of 
note in London, but as by this time we were 
beginning to feel that if we were going to see 
anything more we must have another story 
put on the top of our heads, we desisted from 
visiting them. Seeing so many things in suc- 
cession gives one the feeling of having eaten 
too much dinner, and a change of occupation 
becomes imperative. 

Having decided to indulge this feeling, we 
considered ourselves fortunate in being able 

32 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

to secure seats at the Lyceum Theater, where 
Irving and Terry were nearing the end of 
their season in the play of "Robespierre." 
This play is always remarkable, but abso- 
lute^ marvelous as interpreted by these 
great artists. The scenery, the setting and 
the support were good, but it was Henry Irv- 
ing who made the play what it was for us that 
night, What/ we were seeing did not seem 
like acting at all, but we seemed to be getting 
glimpses into the real historical scenes of that 
horrible time, made infinitely more horrible 
by the personality of the hero. The only 
hard part about it was the waiting between 
the acts and the falling of the curtain upon 
the last scene. As we joined the throng 
which was hastening out into the crowded 
streets of London we were so excited by all 
that Ave had seen and heard that we were 
quite unable to tell which direction we must 
take to get to the now familiar "Russell 
Square, " where we must lodge that night. 

The scenes which we visited the following 
morning were hardly fitted to dispel the pain- 
ful emotions which had been aroused by liv- 
ing over the French Revolution as interpreted 
by Henry Irving, for it was at that time that 



33 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

we had planned to go to England's historic 
prison. London Tower! Who that has ever 
stepped within its gloomy walls can think of 
it without a shudder! There is no part of 
London about which one hears more discus- 
sion than the "Tower." It is called historic- 
ally the most interesting spot in England, 
and some tourists even go so far as to declare 
that if they could only see one thing in the 
whole of London, that one thing should be 
the Tower. Haying, therefore, had my antici- 
pations so fully aroused and having looked 
forward to the visit to the Tower as one of the 
most enjoyable parts of our sight seeing, I 
was hardly prepared for the chill which came 
over me when I actually found myself within 
those historic walls. Of course I knew that it 
had been for many years the state prison of 
England, and that many most horrible things 
had taken place within its walls. But I 
could not realize that the very atmosphere of 
death and torture could still hang so heavily 
over a place from which these things had 
been for so many years removed. A modern 
wall surrounds the entire ancient structure, 
at the corners of which are placed ticket 
offices. The usual fee of a sixpence is omit- 



34 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ted upon two days of the week, but even upon 
these days the visitor must secure his ticket 
at the office before being admitted. A pecu- 
liar little experience occurred here. Accord- 
ing to the usual custom of women, each mem- 
ber of the gentle sex who sought admission 
carried in her hand some kind of a bag or 
satchel. The keeper demands that every one 
of these articles, no matter how small or in- 
significant, shall be surrendered to him be- 
fore their respective owners shall pass the 
gates. It is exceedingly embarrassing in 
many cases, as the women often carry in these 
bags their purses, handkerchiefs, note books 
and other articles which they would prefer to 
keep about them. Eemonstrances availed 
nothing, however, and the women were kept 
busy extracting those things which they were 
unwilling to commit to the care of the gate- 
keeper. No one appeared upon the scene to 
explain the reason of this inconvenient cus- 
tom — they do not explain things in England — 
and after puzzling over it for some time I came 
to the conclusion that the authorities were 
afraid that these women visitors (there were 
very few men going in) were carrying pack- 
ages of dynamite in their bags with which to 



35 



# 
THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

blow open the treasure safes contained with- 
in the walls, or perhaps some dangerous 
weapon with which to overpower the keepers 
of the precious relics. However, I at last 
gained admittance, minus my bag, but retain- 
ing my note book and pencil. This note book 
and pencil were regarded with suspicion by 
the authorities of several different countries 
which we visited on our journey, and after- 
wards r learned from a friend who had had 
an unpleasant experience that I might have 
been arrested upon the charge of being a mili- 
tary spy securing information for the benefit 
of some foreign enemy. 

The first thingwhich attracted myattention 
after having completed the experience just 
described, was the great wide moat which sur- 
rounded the regular fortress w r all. This was 
crossed by a stone bridge. It was when I 
passed through the opening at the end of this 
bridge that I felt the chill of horror descend 
upon me. I found myself in a little city of 
dark, tall and gloomy towers, and I could 
realize the hopelessness which must have 
filled the hearts of those who were taken 
there under authority in the days when its 
bloody history was being made. It certainly 



36 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

did not seem like an easy place to get out or. 
Out of the group of thirteen towers there are 
only three to which the ordinary visitor is ad- 
mitted. The most important of these is known 
as the "White Tower." They say there was a 
period in its history when it was white, 
though one can hardly believe it from looking 
at it now. Many of the dreadful things con- 
nected with the tower happened here. It was 
in this place that the two young princes were 
murdered by their uncle, Richard III. 

The old armor which fills some of the 
rooms is interesting from the historical stand- 
point, as it is so arranged as to show the de- 
velopment of methods of attack and protec- 
tion in warfare. But it was all so suggestive 
of the cruelties and horrors of those days 
that I felt very much relieved when I had 
finished the inspection of it, which I felt it 
my duty to make. 

Beauchamp Tower is a short distance from 
the White Tower. It was here that so many 
famous persons were imprisoned, and you are 
still shown the cells, upon the walls of which 
are traced the names of their former royal 
occupants. Narrow dark passage ways con- 
nect the different rooms, and it is often neces- 



37 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

sary to stoop in order to pass through them. 
If you happen to meet a person coming in 
the other direction one of you will have to 
turn around and go out again, as it is impos- 
sible for two people to pass each other. This 
is the place where the royal prisoners were 
kept while aw r aiting the time of their execu- 
lion upon the scaffold which stood just in 
front of it. This "site of the scaffold" was the 
most disagreeable spot to me within the en- 
tire enclosure. An iron chain surrounds a 
small quadrangle paved with brick. A flat 
stone occupies the center of the quadrangle 
which bears the names of those who have 
been executed upon the spot. The names of 
Anna. Boleyn, Catherine Howard and Lady 
Jane Gray are among the number. 

I was thankful to be out in the open 
air again, where I could think of other 
and more congenial subjects. The one 
bright spot in the whole place is the 
Wakefield Tower, where the most valuable of 
the crown jewels are kept. Here, under a 
glass case protected by a strong iron cage, 
are crowns, coronets, staffs, sceptres, crosses 
and regal diadems of every description. I 
looked with delight upon "Queen Victoria's 



38 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Grown/' made in 1838. It is said to contain 
2,783 diamonds and 310 other gems. While 
this expensive badge of royalty was probably 
suited to the tastes of Victoria in her younger 
days, it is now many years since the good 
queen has put it on. Within the walls of the 
"Tower" very many noted people are buried, 
for the most part, those who were confined 
and beheaded there. The list of England's 
notables who have suffered confinement in 
the Tower for a longer or shorter period con- 
tains many names which w T ill always figure 
prominently upon the pages of history. 



39 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER V. 

QUEEN VICTORIA AND WINDSOR CASTLE. HAMPTON 
COURT. 

It is always interesting to come as near to 
the every day homes and haunts of royalty 
as possible. This is especially the case with 
regard to England's beloved sovereign, Queen 
Victoria. Nothing could have been more 
gratifying and agreeable than to turn from 
London Tower, which represents so much 
that is horrible in the history of the past, to 
Windsor Castle, the home of Queen Victoria, 
who represents in her own personality so 
much of what is best in the civilization of the 
present. Windsor Castle is situated in the 
little town of Windsor, twenty-five miles from 
London. Although the place has been of his- 
torical importance ever since the time of Wil- 
liam the Conqueror (probably on account of 
its fine location as a military fortress), it has 
been continually remodeled and brought 
down to date, so that it now stands as a most 
interesting type of the modern English castle. 



40 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Within this structure, closely guarded by 
high walls and ever watchful attendants, in 
apartments especially fitted up for her com- 
fort and convenience, Queen Victoria is liv- 
ing out these last years w^hich all of her sub- 
jects fully realize must now be few. Mem- 
bers of her immediate family make their 
home there, and the tiny kings and queens of 
the future, either of England or of some other 
country, play about the halls and walks and 
peep out of the windows. It is quite impos- 
sible for anyone who has not visited England 
to realize the love and esteem which are felt 
by the. people of England for "Her Majesty,'' 
so small in stature, but so important in the 
history of the world. There are many evi- 
dences that the Queen wishes to leave her 
people beloved and respected by them. When 
w r e remember how anxious she was to have 
her reign close with a state of peace existing 
throughout all of the countries over which 
she rules, we must grieve on account of the 
hostilities which have recently come about, 
and which bid fair to continue for some time 
to come. One of the evidences of Queen Vic- 
toria's good will to her people is the recent 
opening to the public of Kensington Palace, 



41 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

where she was born and brought up and 
where she received the news of the death of 
William IV., by which event she became 
Queen of England. At the present time, any 
one who wishes may wander through the 
many apartments of Kensington, which are 
all carefully labeled, and which contain many 
souvenirs of the childhood of the queen. 
Among other things are the dolls and toys 
with which the royal baby was wont to amuse 
herself. A very pretty story was told to me 
while making the rounds of these places, con- 
nected with the early life of Queen Victoria, 
by one of her most devoted subjects. From 
the time that Victoria was a very young child 
her mother believed that she was to be the 
future Queen of England, and educated her 
with this in view. The story goes that one 
day Victoria, who was studying history, 
asked her governess who was to be the sov- 
ereign of England after the death of William 
IV. The governess handed her a history and 
told her to study out for herself the answer 
to the question. After searching carefully for 
some time, the child exclaimed: "Why, I 
shall be Queen of England after William." 
From that time on her education was a dis- 



42 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

tinct preparation for her future career, which 
developed for her as was anticipated. 

But to return to Windsor Castle from this 
digression which has been made to things 
suggested by it. The train which one 
must take to reach the Castle runs very 
near to "Stokes Poges," the churchyard 
of which is the scene of Gray's famous 
"Elegy," and which now contains ^ this 
poet's grave. Before reaching Windsor the 
train crosses the Thames, passing Eton Col- 
lege on the right. Upon reaching Windsor, 
we went at once to the Castle, where we easily 
gained admittance. Within the walls there 
are all kinds of interesting things, such as 
chapels, gardens and monuments. I knocked 
at the door of one of the little cottages, many 
of which line the lower side of the grounds, 
and asked for a drink of water, as the day was 
hot and we had been walking a long way. I 
learned from the neat maid in a white cap 
who brought, me the water that I was upon 
the threshold of the house occupied by the 
Vicar of St. George's Chapel. This chapel is 
a most interesting and ancient part of the 
buildings connected with the Castle. As it 
was Sunday, we ventured to enter the Chapel 



43 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

at the close of the morning service, but, to our 
surprise and disgust, were peremptorily 
hustled out by a clerical looking person in a 
black gown, who did not take the pains to be 
barely polite while he informed us that no- 
body was admitted except to attend the regu- 
lar services. When an Englishman sets out 
to be rude, he can certainly accomplish his 
purpose in the most convincing manner pos- 
sible*. Those portions of the castle in which 
the Queen lives are of course only open to 
visitors when she is away. As we approached 
the iron fence which marked the limit of our 
advance, we asked the red coated guard who 
was marching back and forth with a gun on 
his shoulder if there would be any opportu- 
nity for us to see the Queen. "If yon will stand 
right here for about ten minutes you will see 
her coming home from church in her car- 
riage," said he. "She is attending church at 
her private chapel at Frogmore, and it is 
nearly time for her to be coming home." We 
felt that this was probably the nearest we 
would ever get to this royal personage, and 
so decided to w^ait, and in a few minutes the 
carriage passed. It was a plain open vehicle, 
containing, so far as we could see, no person 



44 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

except the Queen and her coachman. We 
were thankful for the passing glimpse which 
we were able to obtain of "Her Majesty." 
We were about to return to the station to take 
the train back to London again when a chub- 
by, red faced fellow headed us off because we 
were going to walk down a prohibited 
lane. We explained ourselves by telling him 
where we were going, and he asked us if we. 
were not going to stay- for the music in the 
afternoon. Then we learned for the first time 
that the beautiful terraced gardens of the 
Queen, upon which her private apartments 
face, were thrown open to the public on every 
Sunday afternoon at four o'clock, and that 
music was furnished alternately by two 
bands. We again decided to take advantage 
of this unexpected opportunity, and four 
o'clock found us crowding up against the 
gates with the rest of the throng which had 
assembled there. The gardens were beauti- 
ful, and the music was fine, and we caught a 
glimpse of the Queen herself as she was 
wheeled past the window by her attendant, 
as she is now so infirm as to be entirely un- 
able to walk alone. But there were no seats 
provided, and the fiercest of fierce policemen 



45 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

were everywhere to prevent the weary sub- 
jects of the Queen from resting themselves 
either upon the low walls or upon the steps. 
So that we grew exceedingly tired as we stood 
there with the burning sun pouring down 
upon our heads, and were thankful when 
finally the concert closed w T ith the rendering 
of "God Save the Queen" (to which we men- 
tally supplied the words "My Country ? Tis of 
Thee"), and the people departed, not quickly 
enough, however, to suit the wishes of the 
fierce policemen, who were evidently tired of 
the task of trying to make the sturdy British- 
ers "keep off the grass." 

Another of the Queen's palaces which 
is open to the public is "Hampton Court." 
We might have overlooked this spot, 
even loaded as it is with historic in- 
terest, had not our attention been espe- 
cially called to it. Hampton Court is sit- 
uated about fifteen miles from London, and 
is the largest of the Queen's royal palaces. 
It contains 1,000 rooms, many of which are 
occupied by aristocratic pensioners of the 
crown. But many of the rooms and all of the 
grounds are open to the public, and many 
things of great interest are upon exhibition 

46 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

there. It is chiefly interesting because it was 
built by Cardinal Wolsey and presented by 
him to his majesty King Henry VIII., who 
made it his residence for a number of years. 
It was afterwards occupied, by Cromwell, the 
Stuarts and William II., whose fatal fall 
from his horse occurred in the park here. The 
conference betw r een the Puritans and the 
Episcopalians under James I. took place here. 
One small room at the end of an immense 
reception hall is pointed out as the "watch 
chamber of Henry VIII." The long, narrow 
windows command an immense extent of ter- 
ritory, and as the transient visitor lingers 
upon the spot he can easily imagine the old 
king spending many an anxious hour peering 
through those same windows, which remain 
intact for so many years after he with all his 
power and all his weakness has passed from 
the stage of life. The palace is of red brick, 
and the rooms, as in other places, are con- 
veniently labeled, so that it is possible to 
obtain a very good idea of the place in a short 
time. An interesting object to me was the 
"Astronomical Clock," which was made for 
Henry VIII. and has recently been repaired 
and set going. It contains the signs of the 



47 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

zodiac and many other things pertaining to 
the skies. But the glory of Hampton Court 
is the garden. I have heard of grass which 
looks like velvet, and trees with wide spread- 
ing branches, and -flowers that nod and beckon 
to one in the sunshine, and other things of a 
similar nature. But I found that I had little 
conception of how beautiful nature could be, 
when assisted by art, until I came to spend 
that morning hour in the garden of Hampton 
Court. Further than this, I can only say that 
if Hampton Court could always look as it did 
upon that day, and if my feelings could al- 
ways be as responsive to its beauties as they 
were at that time, and if I could be there all 
the time, I should not want to leave this 
earth, even to enter into the pictured joys of 
heaven. Then there is the famous "laby- 
rinth," which, if you consult the guide book 
faithfully, you may thread with little diffi- 
culty. And, again, there is the "grape vine." 
I speak of this vine, although I do not expect 
that anyone who has not been there will be- 
lieve what I say about it. I am sure it would 
be difficult for me to credit the facts upon the 
testimony of another person. The vine is said 
to have been planted in the year 1768, and is 



48 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

of the Black Hamburgh variety. The stem 
is 38 inches in circumference (as large as the 
trunk of a good sized shade tree), and the 
branches spread over an area of 2,200 square 
feet. Its yield is 1,200 or 1,300 bunches of 
grapes each year. It spreads out in a sort of 
canopy over one's head, and there is a shed 
built over it with & glass roof. As you turn 
your eyes tipward the great clusters hang 
down with the regularity of artificial frescoes, 
or wall decorations, and have the appear- 
ance of artificial wax grapes. But, in spite 
of my natural incredulity, I was convinced 
that the grapes were real, and went on my 
way wondering. 

After leaving Hampton Court I walked to 
the village of Teddington, a distance of one 
mile, through the famous deer park, down 
the avenue of old chestnut trees planted by 
William III. I found it convenient and pleas- 
ant, as do most travelers, to complete the 
day's excursion by a visit to the famous "Kew 
Gardens," which, I believe, are the largest 
and most elaborate of which London boasts. 
These "Gardens" consist of acres upon acres 
of rolling wooded ground, so extensive that 
one loses oneself repeatedly as he wanders 



49 



The story of a European tour. 

back and forth among the various places of 
interest. There are hot houses filled with 
rare and beautiful specimens, artificial ponds 
where children were feeding swans, and 
buildings containing uriusual plants and 
trees from different countries. After explor- 
ing until I was weary, I sat down under one 
of the beautiful trees to rest and wait until 
it was time to take the train, which in a few 
minutes brought me to "Victoria Station," 
the center of the spider web of 'bus lines 
which holds all London in its grasp. I had 
taken this day's excursion quite alone, and 
it is much easier to tell about the things 1 
saw^ than it is to describe the various sensa- 
tions which I experienced during the long 
tramp through places and scenes entirely 
strange and unknown. Every one admits 
that it is the mental experiences which count 
for the most in a trip of this kind. 



50 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER VI. . 

THE WOMEN'S CLUBS OF LONDON. A WOMAN IN THE 
HOUSE OF COMMONS. 

There was one "phase of London life in 
which I was very much interested, and about 
which I found very little in the guide books. 
The object of my desire was to obtain a 
glimpse into the life of the Women's Clubs 
of the great metropolis. My previous knowl- 
edge of these institutions was such as to con- 
vince me that they were sufficiently private 
in their nature to make it impossible for a 
stranger to even look through the buildings 
without the co-operation of a resident mem- 
ber. But it had transpired that one of Lon- 
don's brightest literary and club ladies hav- 
ing relatives in my own home town in America 
had spent a season there. It had been 
my good fortune to secure her as a friend. 
I had thought of her many times during the 
busy days of our life in London, and I was 
very happy indeed when, upon repairing to 
her home in South Kensington, I found that 



51 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

she was at home. After the greetings had 
been exchanged, and I had answered as best 
I eonld the many eager questions which she 
put to me i# regard to her friends and ac- 
quaintances in America, I told her of my wish 
to visit in person some of the Women's Clubs 
of London. She entered into my plans at 
once, and in a few minutes had made out a 
tour for the day. 

While in some respects the Women's Clubs 
of London correspond to the* Women's Clubs 
in the United States (especially to those in 
our larger cities, which represent the state 
and national federation of clubs), still they 
differ widely and in many important respects. 
There is a large number of them in the city, 
but their origin is of comparatively recent 
date. Their growth and influence has been 
phenomenal considering this latter fact. They 
do not seem to have come into existence as 
have so many of the clubs in this country, 
through the desire on the part of a circle of 
women to get together and study for the pur- 
poses of self culture. I found upon investiga- 
tion that many of them, especially among 
those which were organized first, were 
founded, supported and endowed by some 



52 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

lad j of title or means with a distinctively 
philanthropic purpose. One has to be in 
London but a very short time to realize the 
need of philanthropic work there. This is 
especially the case among the women. It can 
readily be seen how naturally the time and 
talents of the leisure class of women lend 
themselves to this kind of work. Any insti- 
tution for which there is a manifest need will 
grow and repeat itself, as these London 
Women's Clubs have done. The philan- 
thropic idea has been developed in different 
directions. The educational feature is be- 
coming prominent in some, while a few very 
large and flourishing clubs are purely social 
in their aims. I am interested in these clubs 
because they have opened up a wide field of 
usefulness for the activities of women. Use- 
ful activity always indicates development 
along the best lines. Then again, the worn-' 
en's club movement is a movement which has 
promise for the future. X rejoice to think that 
the future offers to women a larger place for 
usefulness at first hand than the past has 
done. I rejoice to know that English women 
are showing themselves more than ready to 
take advantage of all the opportunities which 



53 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

offer, of making themselves a power for good 
in the world. All of the prominent clubs 
have permanent homes of their own. These 
are fitted up comfortably, and some of them 
elegantly. We only had time to visit three of 
the club houses. But my hostess had taken 
pains that these three should be as different 
as possible, and also typical of a large num- 
ber of others. We first went to the "Gros- 
venor Orescent Club," which is typical for two 
reasons. First, gentlemen are not admitted 
as members (as they are in some of the clubs), 
and second, there is in connection with it a 
"Woman's Institute." This latter institution 
corresponds to a business college for girls. 
Any young woman by complying with certain 
almost nominal financial conditions may re- 
ceive instruction in what they call there "sec- 
retarial work." This means not only type- 
writing, bookkeeping, shorthand and so forth, 
but in the other duties which are required of 
the secretary to a member of parliament or 
general business man. The ability to carry 
on original research is highly prized in this 
connection, and is made a special feature of 
the "Institute." A women's bureau is also 
maintained in connection with this club, and 



54 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

situations are almost invariably secured for 
those who have satisfactorily completed the 
course. The club has a fine suite of drawing 
rooms, members' rooms, game rooms, dining 
rooms and bed rooms. This makes it what is 
known as "residential." Meals of all kinds are 
served to members, and the rooms are also at 
their disposal for private parties, 'afternoon 
teas and so forth. From time to time, debates, 
literary discussions and musical entertain- 
ments are given in the rooms, although not as 
much attention seems to be given to that kind 
of thing here as in some of the other clubs. 
The bed rooms which have been mentioned 
are at the disposal of the members, for a mod- 
erate price. 

From the "Grosvenor Crescent" we went to 
the "Pioneer." Here we found fine appart- 
ments as before, with the addition of a "smok- 
ing room." 

"Is this for the gentlemen friends of the 
members?" I inquired. 

"Oh, no," replied our hostess. "It is for 
the use of the members themselves." 

I peered anxiously into the interior of this 
room, wondering what would be my sensa- 
tion upon seeing one of my own sex "using 



55 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the weed." But I was destined to disappoint- 
ment in this ease for the room was empty, 
and only the heavy odor of tobacco which 
hung about the place convinced me that I 
had not misunderstood. In answer to the 
question as to whether the room was largely 
patronized by ladies, I learned that it was 
not. The strong point of this club is its ex- 
cellent literary program. The program for 
the current and coming seasons, which were 
kindly furnished to me by the secretary, Lady 
Hamilton, were replete with the most 
weighty subjects of interest in the literary, 
scientific and political world. This club -is 
also residential and has been in existence 
since 1892. 

The last club to be visited was the "Sesame 
League." The rooms of this organization 
were more elaborate than those of the other 
clubs, as the social feature is more prominent. 
The main idea of the club is educational. One 
department is known as "Home Life Train- 
ing." This means the training of young girls 
for domestic duties and the care of children. 
Everything which is new and progressive in 
these lines has been introduced. Kindergar- 
ten and primary teachers are admitted for 

56 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

a small fraction of what is expected of other 
applicants. Gentlemen are admitted as mem- 
bers. There are extended and elaborate 
courses in a variety of lines. Lady Henry 
Somerset is one of the trustees of the Gros- 
venor Crescent Club, the Countess of Aber- 
deen is a. patron of the Pioneer, and many 
prominent and cultured English ladies work 
in the Sesame. The club house of the latter 
is on the same plan as that of the two former 
organizations. 

This day among the women's clubs was 
v^ery near the end of our allotted time in Lon- 
don, and still there were many things which 
we wanted to see, in fact, many things which 
Ave felt that we must see. Among these was 
the interior of the Houses of Parliament. It 
developed in the course of our inquiries that 
it is a comparatively easy thing for a man to 
secure a seat in the gallery of the House of 
Commons during the deliberations of this 
august body. Not so in the case of a woman. 
There is a good deal of maneuvering to be 
gone through with and even then failure is 
apt to be the result, as was the case with me. 
We had no friends who were members of the 
House, but we carried a letter to the Hon. 



57 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

9 the American ambassador to Eng- 
land, from one of our own senators and a per- 
sonal friend of the ambassador. But it seemed 
that American ambassadors are about as 
hard to find as a woman's pocket, and per- 
sonal friendship does not count for much 
when the ocean rolls between the .parties to 
it. So in spite of a good deal of time spent, 
involving a number of trips back and forth to 
the house of the ambassador, when we ap- 
proached the House of Commons my husband 
was admitted by the watchful policeman who 
guarded the door, but I was not. I accepted 
the situation with as good grace as I could 
command, reflecting that there were other 
places besides London where the opportuni- 
ties of persons were abridged on account of 
sex. I spent the time in strolling through the 
long vestibule. (I had not been refused the 
vestibule.) This portion of the building was 
adorned with the statues of England's former 
statesmen. I was pleased to reflect that I, 
even though a woman, was allowed to gaze 
upon the marble forms of dead heroes, though 
denied the privilege of a peep at the heads of 
living ones. Later we learned that both 
Houses of Parliament were thrown open to 

58 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the public on every Saturday afternoon, and 
having decided that if you cannot get what 
you want it is best to take what you can get, 
we joined the throng the following Saturday 
and were hurried along Avith the rest of the 
people through the historic halls. We saw 
the Queen's robing room and the royal gallery 
through which she passes when opening or 
proroguing parliament. 

Also the "House of Peers," at one end of 
which under a richly decorated canopy is the 
magnificent throne of the Queen. The fur- 
niture in this latter room is covered with red 
leather, and all of the furnishings are exceed- 
ingly elegant. The "House of Commons" is 
simpler and more business like. The finish- 
ings here are of oak. 

Throughout the entire building there are 
to be seen a large number of interesting 
works of art, such as wood carving, paintings, 
tapestry and so forth. 



59 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTEK VII. 

THE PICTURE GALLERIES. MISCELLANEOUS OBJECTS 
OP INTEREST. 

Any enumeration of the interesting things 
to be seen in London would be quite incom- 
plete which left out the picture galleries. And 
yet, my experience was that the galleries 
were among the very hardest things to man- 
age, in a way that was at all satisfactory, of 
all the many things which were seen during 
the trip. This was in spite of the fact that the 
pictures were more beautiful than I could 
possibly have anticipated, and that art is ca- 
pable of giving more real pleasure than al- 
most anything in the world. 

One reason why it is so hard for even a 
lover of art to enjoy to the fullest extent the 
magnificent art galleries in foreign countries, 
is that there is never enough time allowed in 
which to visit and study them. It is not 
enough simply to look at a picture and then 
pass on, as you can do with so many things. 
And it is almost a waste of time just to walk 



60 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

through room after room lined with the most 
beautiful pictures, even though you do jerk 
your head from side to side and look up and 
down in the most industrious manner pos- 
sible. When you come out you will only have 
a confused aching consciousness of colors, in 
which are floating about in helpless confusion 
faces, trees, sky, water, ships, angels, madon- 
nas, flowers and animals of all kinds. Another 
drawback to the full enjoyment of pictures in 
the regular galleries is that you see so many 
pictures in other places. If one could save all 
the ability he has for enjoying pictures until 
he visited the actual picture galleries, it 
would be much easier to appreciate and enjoy 
their contents. But as it is now, there are 
pictures, pictures, pictures everywhere. The 
castles, the palaces, the Parliament Houses, 
the churchesand the museumseach have their 
individual collections, which the visitor feels 
it his duty to inspect. So that when one comes 
to really give time to the study of pictures and 
nothing else, he is more than apt to bring 
with him a mind already tired out with the 
contemplation of them. Then, again, I think 
everyone admits that there is something pe- 
culiarly trying about the inspection of pic- 

61 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

tures. It seems to draw upon so many facul- 
ties at one time. (Of course, I refer to the or- 
dinarily intelligent traveler, not to the experi- 
enced critic or artist.) The eyes must see, the 
mind must grasp, the memory must be at a 
high point of activity, and the reasoning pow- 
ers must also be brought into use. Then pic- 
tures, although they are so- different, are also 
very much alike, and there* is very little use 
in looking at them unless you are able to ex- 
ercise some power of discrimination. Then, 
again, in order to get much out of pictures, one 
should have a very large fund of knowledge 
in regard to them before starting in. 

It w T as somewhat in ignorance of all these 
conditions that I started bravely upon an in- 
spection of London's most important collec- 
tion of pictures, "The National Gallery." The 
building stands upon the north terrace of 
Trafalgar Square. This is the spot where 
stood the original gallery, which started with 
thirty-eight pictures in the year 1834. The 
collection now consists of 1,500 pictures, 
which are exhibited in twenty-two rooms. 
The building itself is very fine, and one can- 
not fail to be impressed with the very atmos- 
phere of art and artists which pervades every 

62 



the story op a European tour. 

part of it. I found later that I could remem- 
ber comparative]}' few of the pictures in de- 
tail out of the many which I saw T and enjoyed. 
The "Turner Room" was interesting and easy 
to remember, because there was one entire 
apartment devoted to the pictures of this one 
artist, who is called the greatest of English 
landscape painters. It seemed to me that 
there was a great difference in the excellence 
of the pictures of this artist. I especially 
failed to appreciate those in which the colors 
are so blended together as to make the put- 
line and the impression indefinite, although I 
know there is a class of art lovers who are 
very devoted to this style of pictures. The 
picture entitled "A Frosty Morning" has held 
its place in my mind and given me more pleas- 
ure than any other one in the "Turner Room." 
It was in the Umbrian room of the National 
Gallery that we had our first introduction to 
the beautiful madonnas of Raphael. While 
his best work is not found here, we discovered 
four beautiful originals, an inspection of 
which was enough to impress us with the 
difference between this gifted artist and all 
others. Two of the pictures of this great mas- 
ter contained madonnas, and we were able to 



63 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

appreciate that soft, delicate, yet strong ex- 
pression, which no other artist seems to have 
portrayed as Kapha el has done. The "Ma- 
donna degli Ansidei," by the latter artist, 
was bought from the Duke of Marlborough 
in the year 1884 for £70,000 ($350,000), 
said to be the largest sum ever given for a 
picture. It is also said to be the most import- 
ant example of Raphael in England. "St. 
Catherine of Alexandria" is a smaller picture, 
but very beautiful. We found so many land- 
scapes by Gainsborough that we became fa- 
miliar enough with them to recognize them 
elsewhere. Among the other noted artists 
whose works go to make up the reputation of 
the National Gallery are Benjamin West, 
Taddeo Gaddi, Andrea Arcagna, Fra Filippo 
Lippi, Leonardo da Vinci and many others of 
similar worth. As we could not visit all of 
the fine collections of pictures, w T e selected 
from the many other excellent ones the "Tate 
Gallery." This gallery receives its name from 
Sir Henry Tate, who erected it and presented 
it to the nation along with a collection of six- 
ty-five paintings. I was extremely interested 
in the collection of pictures in the Tate Gal- 
lery (also called the National Gallery of Brit- 



64 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ish Art), because it contained the works of 
the modern British artists, many of whom are 
living, and who have secured their start upon 
the road to fame through having their pic- 
tures accepted by the committee of the Eoyal 
Academy. These pictures bring us very near 
to the living, struggling artists of today, 
Hundreds of pictures are presented every 
year to the committee of the Eoyal Academy, 
and possibly a score accepted. 

Sir John Millais, Sir Edwin Landseer and, 
G. F. Watts are among the modern painters 
of note who are represented in the Tate Gal- 
lery. The picture called "Hope" by the last 
named artist, representing a female figure 
holding a harp with a single string, is one of 
the finest in the room which is devoted to his 
works. 

Upon leaving this gallery, shortly after 
noon I found myself in the vicinity of the 
suburban railway station, where a train may 
be taken for Sydenham, the location of the fa- 
mous Crystal Palace of London. Getting 
aboard a car, I soon found myself at this in- 
teresting suburb. Although the Palace 
is not an art gallery, it abounds in 
art and the suggestions of art, and so may 
properly be mentioned here. The palace is 

65 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

large and elaborate, and from a distance very 
effective. The grounds about it are large and 
laid out with flower beds, fountains, cricket 
and tennis grounds, and other things suited 
to attract and amuse the public generally. 
But a nearer inspection of the building dis- 
closes so large a proportion of iron and wood 
in its makeup (in spite of the printed declara- 
tion that it is entirely of glass) that it seems 
common, and upon the whole disappointing. 
The interior of the building reminded me of 
the corn palaces, hay and grain palaces which 
are so popular in some of our western cities, 
only of course this was upon a much larger 
and more pretentious scale. There was a 
large amount of beautiful statuary (copies of 
both ancient and modern masterpieces), and 
quite an elaborate zoological display. In ad- 
dition to these, there were exhibits of manu- 
factured articles of many kinds. A large 
band played daily at a certain hour. 
The immense gallery is lined with booths 
where all kinds of trinkets may be pur- 
chased. Most of these booths are kept 
by women, and I remember that one forlorn 
female appealed to me in plaintive tones to 
buy something of her. During the few mo- 



66 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ments that I hesitated before her stall, she 
treated me to a dismal account of her 
troubles, closing, as I was passing on, with 
the wail, "Other folks can sell things, I don't 
see why I can't." 

But our days in London were drawing to a 
close, and although I was perfectly conscious 
that I had already seen much more than I 
could possibly remember, I also began to re- 
alize how many were going to be left unseen. 
I knew that the things which I did not 
see would be the first which my friends would 
inquire about when I reached home, and their 
importance would be magnified each time I 
was obliged to reply that I had not seen them. 
Then there are always the little "incidents 
and impressions" which it is impossible to 
describe, and, as every one knows, make up so 
large a part of the pleasure of a trip. Among 
the miscellaneous objects of interest which do 
not seem to classify themselves, and yet which 
I would not have missed seeing for anything, 
I remember "London Bridge." I remember 
hearing of this feature of the great city when 
I was very young, and we used to play a 
game called "London Bridge Is Falling 
Down." But this structure of such wide rep- 

67 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

utation seems to have no intention of falling 
down at the present time, but appeared to be 
very solid and substantial as we viewed it 
from day to day from the top of the 'bus while 
riding over or past it. All there is to it may 
easily be seen in a few seconds, and yet no one 
would like to miss seeing it. The Thames 
itself is always in the foreground, as it 
threads so populous a portion of the city and 
is of historic interest, but in itself it is narrow 
and homely. 

"Cleopatra's Needle," the Egyptian obelisk, 
which rises conspicuously upon the right 
bank of the Thames, is most interesting. It 
is one of a pair brought from Alexandria, the 
companion of which stands in Central Park, 
New York. It is reddish granite, sixty-eight 
feet in height, and contains numerous inter- 
esting inscriptions. "Regent's Park" is a 
beautiful place, well to the north of the city. 
One of its most interesting features is the zoo- 
logical collection, probably one of the finest 
in the world. I saw a monstrous elephant 
taking a bath in a huge tank. The dozens of 
monkeys jumping about in their cages fairly 
haunted me because their faces looked so hu- 
man. The Russian wolves, walking round and 



68 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

round their great stone cages with unceasing 
restlessness, made one shudder to think what 
it might be to be at their mercy. There was 
the most magnificent specimen of a lion that 
I ever saw. There were camels which paraded 
up and down the shady avenue with happy 
children upon their backs. Then there w r ere 
birds and birds and birds. A few hours spent 
here made me feel as if I had seen the whole 
animal creation, at least if there are an}^ more 
I cannot imagine what they would look like. 



69 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 
CHAPTER VIII. 

HYDE PARK. WHITE CHAPEL. ACROSS THE CHANNEL. 

Then there is Hyde Park. A visit to the 
famous "Albert Memorial" is usually made at 
the same time, when one goes to this beau- 
iful spot, as they are very near together. 
A large figure of the good "Prince Consort" 
sits under an immense golden canopy. Upon 
the lower part of the pedestal are sculptured 
in relief the figures of famous poets, painters, 
architects, sculptors and musicians. The 
canopy terminates at the top by a gothic spire 
surmounted by a cross. This monument was 
erected by the English nation at a cost of 
£120,000 (|600,000). On a certain bright 
afternoon we enjoyed the pleasure of a walk 
along "Rotten Row," that portion of Hyde 
Park which is frequented by Mayfair (the 
fashionable portion of London society), be- 
tween the hours of five and seven in the after- 
noon. I had thought that Fifth Avenue, New 
York presented as brilliant a scene in this 
line as it was possible to behold, but Fifth 

70 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Avenue is only a mild suggestion of Hyde 
Park. There is one constant glitter of elegant 
equipages, drawn by horses in the most gaudy 
trappings, driven by coachmen in the most 
elaborate attire, and attended by powdered 
lackeys. The carriages were mostly occupied 
by elegantly dressed women, though once in 
a while the sober garb of a gentleman might 
be seen. 

Nothing but private equipages are admit- 
ted to the park at this time of the day. The 
return to Russell Square through Picca- 
dilly was interesting. The progress of 
the ? bus upon which we were riding 
was slow, and we had plenty of time to 
enjoy the scene to the fullest extent. We 
seemed to be in an ocean of 'buses. As far as 
the eye could reach they were packed to- 
gether like blocks in a box. This was especi- 
ally the case in the neighborhood of Picca- 
dilly Circus. Before going abroad the word 
"circus" had always been associated in 
my mind with a large tent, a brass 
band, a street parade and similar para- 
phernalia. But there are any number of 
things which they do not call by their 
right names in England, so it is not sur- 

71 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

prising that with the people there a "circus" 
is simply a "circle" where a certain number of 
streets come to an end. "Oheapside" is a long 
and interesting street filled with retail stores. 
I suppose it is called "Cheapside" because 
everything for sale there is more expensive 
than in other localities. "Trafalgar Square" 
is one of the places which one does not for- 
get. It is a large space set in one of the 
busiest portions of the city and dedicated to 
Lord Nelson, the hero of Trafalgar. A large 
granite column, surmounted by the figure of 
Nelson, rises in the center, about the base of 
which are sculptured representations of 
scenes from his famous battles. A number of 
large lions designed by Landseer are repre- 
sented as guarding the base. Beautiful foun- 
tains play in the Square upon pleasant after- 
noons, and women come out with their sew- 
ing and their little children and sit on the 
benches. Smaller statues of other heroes 
abound. 

One evening we spent in a visit to the 
"White Chapel" region, that locality where 
you are advised not to get down from the 'bus 
if you do not want to have your pockets 
picked and suffer other unpleasant experi- 

72 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ences. We passed through streets crowded 
with people laughing and shouting in front of 
brilliantly lighted booths. From our posi- 
tion of safety we could not but remark that 
the people of White Chapel were having the 
best time of anyone in London. We hoped 
that much of it was innocent even though it 
was noisy. Oxford street, and its continua- 
tion, Holborn street, are both interesting; 
that is, after one has learned that in order to 
be directed thither by either policeman or 
? bus driver you must ask for "Hoxfud" and 
"Obun." If you ask for them as you would in 
America, you will be told that there are no 
such streets in London. The peculiar custom 
of changing the name of a street every few 
blocks, together with the irregularity of the 
streets, is one thing which makes it hard for a 
stranger to get about in London. But 
you never forget localities when you 
have onc£ learned them. There was one 
thing which I did not see in London, 
although I looked for it constantly. 
That was a public school. While I understand 
that interest in public education is growing in 
England, the conditions in this regard differ 
widely from those in this country. While we 
admit that we have no palaces or princes in 

73 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

our home country, we may rightfully cherish 
a feeling of pride when we think of our school 
houses and all that they represent. 

Well ! By the time we had seen all of the 
things which have been mentioned we were 
"good and ready" to leave London. We went 
by way of Harwich and Antwerp, taking the 
water journey in the night. But it was a 
most delightful experience, for it was a glori- 
ous moonlight night, and we stayed out on 
the deck until it was very late. Why is it 
that one always thinks of home on a moon- 
light night? I remember that my thoughts 
flew back to my home on the western prairies, 
and to the little city on the river bank where 
the people must just be getting up. 

It seemed an unusually long way off, as it 
always did when I was suffering from a touch 




of homesickness. The boat landed at Ant- 
werp, and after having our valises rummaged 

74 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

by those military looking personages in stiff 
caps, we went ashore. We did not stop at 
Antwerp in spite of our desire to see Buben's 
masterpiece, "The Descent, from the Cross " 
which we knew to be hanging in the cathe- 
dral there, but went directly to Brussels. 
Brussels is a beautiful city. It has clean, 
wide streets and attractive shops, in which 
are displayed the beautiful laces made theiv 
and offered at what seemed to us merely nom- 
inal prices. It was here that the tussel with 
the "unknown tongues" began. We had 
thought we knew a little German and French, 
and we soon found out how painfully little 
it was. I remember that I used to say that I 
would never go abroad until I had acquainted 
myself with the language of the countries 
where I intended to travel. But alas! I did. 
The people are all very polite, even though 
you cannot understand much of what they are 
trying to say to you. One can always tell 
whether he is being treated civilly or unciv- 
illy no matter w T hat language is being used 
in the process. We enjoyed the beautiful ca- 
thedral, which served as a most delightful 
change from the heat of the street where we 
had been walking. (There did come a time in 

75 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. ' 

our travels when we omitted the cathedrals 
from our list of sights, but at that time we 
were still young in many things, and we felt 
it our duty to see everything which was down 
in the guide book). We visited the Koyal Pal- 
ace, and a museum or two, but were most im- 
pressed by the building known as the "Palais 
de Justice." It corresponds to what would be 
a court house with us, but was interesting on 
account of its great size. It is claimed that 
it is the very largest building in .the world. 
It was hard to realize that one building could 
cover so much ground. It is of comparatively 
modern date. 

In the afternoon we took the train for 
Braine PAlleud, a little town where a car- 
riage may be taken to the scene of the famous 
battle of Waterloo. During the short drive 
from the station to the actual scene of the 
battle the loquacious driver had a great many 
things to tell us. A number of these we took 
with a grain of allowance. The center of the 
battle field is marked by an immense mound 
surmounted by a gigantic lion made of iron. 
This is known as the "Lion's Mound," and 
from the top of it, which may be reached by 
a good hard climb up a long flight of stairs, 

76 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

a fine view of the surrounding country is ob- 
tained. The famous trench into which the sol- 
diers of Napoleon fell with such disastrous 
results disappeared entirely in the process of 
building the mound. The mound was built 
by the Belgian and Dutch governments. in 
honor of the victory. One of the stories told 
in connection with the battle field is that 
when the Duke of Wellington visited the 
spot after the mound had 1 been made he 
remarked: "Ah, but you have spoiled my bat- 
tle field." The town of Waterloo may be seen 
a short distance away, which gave the battle 
its name. It was from this town that Wel- 
lington sent his noted dispatch announcing 
the news of the victory over England's (at that 
time) most dreaded foe, Napoleon Bonaparte. 
There is an interesting museum at the foot of 
the mound where are preserved all manner of 
relics, w T hich the ow r ners claim to have 
picked up on the battle field. But relics of 
this kind, which it is so easy to imitate, I 
always look upon very doubtfully. There was 
a kind of atmosphere about the entire place 
and the people which suggested the inelegant 
but expressive phrase of "working it for all 
there was in it." If one could only go quietly 

77 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

and view such a spot in its simplicity, with- 
out having so much gratuitous information 
thrust upon him, the associations could not 
fail to be Ian inspiration. But it is practically 
impossible to do that in any of the historic 
localities of Europe. 

As we drove back to the station to take the 
train for Brussels the vehicle in which we 
rode was followed by any number of plaintive 
faced, ragged little boys and girls> begging 
for the coins which many of the passengers 
threw out for the fun of seeing them scramble 
for them. It seemed to me that some of the 
little chaps followed us for several miles, 
sometimes turning somersaults, sometimes 
singing, trying in all possible ways to attract 
attention and pennies. I wondered if their 
parents sent them out to do that, and of the 
effect it would have upon their characters 
when they were grown. A generation of beg- 
gars (the now great bugbear of Europe), was 
certainly being trained. I can hear the plead- 
ing little voices as they repeat the words 
"Charitee (they pronounce it sharitay), chari- 
tee, madame. Charitee, monsieur, Charitee." 
Prom Brussels we went on to Cologne, arriv- 
ing there at six o'clock in the morning. We 

78 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

did not find the German city so very 
different from the Belgian one, with 
the exception of the magnificent cathe- 
dral, which is situated so near the sta- 
tion that it is almost the first thing 
you see when you leave the train. It is the 
chief attraction of the city, and we found that 
it merited all of the praises which have been 
sung in its honor. It was easily the most 
beautiful thing in its line which we had seen 
up to that time. It is built in the gothic style 
of architecture, and its beauty, which is more 
peculiar to the exterior than to the interior, 
consists of the innumerable peaks and niiner- 
ets which shoot up their slender points in 
every conceivable spot. The vast number of 
heads which are carved upon and about the 
doors are exceedingly beautiful and interest- 
ing. In our exploration of the town as a 
w r hole we were much attracted by the "mar- 
ket place." This was a very large open space 
in the lower part of the city, where every 
thing you could think of was offered for sale, 
from a table of old iron to a collection of rare 
flowers. The most thriving trade was done in 
the fresh vegetables and fruits which had 
been brought in that morning in high market 

79 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

baskets upon the shoulders of bare headed 
women. How the purchasers did haggle and 
shout and gesticulate over every one of their 
purchases, no matter how trivial it might be. 
I think they really enjoy doing so, no matter 
whether they succeed in changing the price 
any or not. 

The city of Cologne is identified with much 
that is interesting in the history of Germany, 
and its cathedral is declared by many to be 
the finest gothic structure in the world. 



80 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER IX. 






A DELIGHTFUL TRIP ON THE HISTORIC RHINE. WIES- 
BADEN AND HEIDELBERG. 

At one o'clock that day we went aboard the 
Rhine steamer, and if it is possible to spend 
hours more delightfully than we did those 
which followed I do not know where one 
would go to do so. 




THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

The Rhine steamers are built purely for the 
comfort and convenience of the passengers, 
and are long, light and airy. Each steamer 
which passed by ours was hailed by wav- 
ing of handkerchiefs and an exchange of 
greetings. The day was exceedingly warm, 
but there was always a cool breeze on the 
deck. The Rhine is not a wide river, but the 
water has a delightful sparkle to it, Apart 
from the historical importance which its lo- 
cality has given it from the earliest times, 
it is the wonderful beauty of the scenery upon 
its banks which has rendered it so famous. 
Our only regret was that we had not allowed 
more time for this part of the journey. We 
were told that there were many people of 
England and the continent who never let a 
season pass without taking the '"Rhine trip." 
I am sure if it were not for the great ocean 
which rolls between us and the historic river, 
I should not fail to be one of them. The banks 
of the river are for the most part mountainous 
and thickly wooded, and the foliage is of the 
most beautiful deep green. Then every few 
miles there is a beautiful little village nest- 
ling at the foot of the mountains, with a 
church spire rising conspicuously. Vineyards 

82 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

appear upon many of the hillsides, where are 
cultivated the grapes from which are made 
the famous "Bhine wines." 

Occasionally we caught glimpses of the 
German peasants who were working in the 
vineyards. They were so high up that they 
seemed like dolls as the red skirts and blue 
head coverings of the women fluttered 
against the green foliage of the grapevines. 
The greatest wonder to me was how they 
could hang on to the steep hillsides and ac- 
complish any work. If there was anything 
necessary to complete the picturesqueness of 
the general effect, it was supplied by the 
castles which surmounted many of the hills. 
Some of these castles were in ruins, while 
others had been rebuilt, and in some cases 
quite modern parts had been added. 

Our even slight experience in mountain 
climbing made us wonder, as I still continue 
to do, how in the world they ever succeeded 
in getting all that material up there. Some 
of the castles seemed to be occupied, and my 
hope for the occupants was that they were 
possessed of balloons in which to ascend to 
their picturesque and airy habitations. Not 
the least interesting part of the trip for me 

83 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

occurred shortly after leaving Cologne. The 
lower part of the boat was completely taken 
up by peasant women, who from the little vil- 
lages along the bank had brought their vege- 
tables to the city to sell them. 

They were then returning to their homes 
laden with their empty baskets. Some of the 
women were bareheaded, and some of them 
wore colored handkerchiefs tied under their 
chins. Each time that the steamer ap- 
proached one of the villages where some 
of the women wished to disembark a large 
flat boat would be seen putting out from the 
shore. The steamer did not stop, but only 
slowed up a trifle and a platform was let 
down to the water's edge. A rope was thrown 
to one of the men in the flat boat, and one by 
one the women and baskets were piled into 
the flat boat. I was always afraid that there 
would not be room for them all, but in every 
case they succeeded in packing the women 
away and piling the big market baskets up so 
high that it seemed as if they could never 
come safely to land. This process was re- 
peated time and again until every woman and 
every basket had been disposed of. It would 
have added greatly to my happiness to be 



84 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

able to get into one of those boats and be 
rowed ashore with the peasant women. I 
wondered if they realized with what envious 
eyes they were being looked upon. But such 
a proceeding had not been included in our 
plans, and so we were borne along, all too 
swiftly, as it seemed to me, to the end of our 
"Rhine journey. " 

We reached Coblentz at nine o'clock 
in the evening, and went ashore for 
the night. It was too late to secure 
satisfactory hotel accommodations, but we 
finally succeeded in finding a comfort- 
able room in a typical German hotel. 
The landlord was a fat, jolly old fellow, who 
declared that he knew r we- were Americans as 
soon as he saw us. He seemed to think it an 
immensely good joke, and laughed immoder- 
ately as he said it. He said that he had been 
in America for twenty-five years himself, and 
it was a very fine country. You may be sure 
we shook hands most heartily upon this decla- 
ration. For if anything could add to the at- 
tractiveness of "Home, Sweet Home," it is 
being landed in a strange German town be- 
tween the hours of nine and ten o'clock upon 
a very dark night and being obliged to hunt 

85 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

for a place to sleep. Ten o'clock the next 
morning found us again afloat with what 
proved to be another delightful day before us. 
The scenery of the second day was even more 
delightful than that of the first. 

It was more broken and varied, and in some 
places fields of grain stretched back from the 
river as far as the eye could reach. We passed 
the "Bocks of the Lorelei" (great mountains in 
reality), and the famous "Mouse Tower" of 
the unfortunate bishop which is referred to in 
one of Longfellow's prettiest poems. "Bingen 
on the Khine" was viewed with the greatest 
interest. The castle known as "Stolzenfels" 
is one of the oldest and most beautiful to be 
seen on the voyage. 

We left the steamer at the little village 
of Biebrich, as that was the nearest sta- 
tion to Wiesbaden, the far famed water- 
ing place and health resort of Germany, 
where we wished to spend a day. An amusing 
little conversation was overheard by us just 
before we left the boat. Some young Ameri- 
can girls had come to our end of the boat and 
were engaged in an animated conversation, 
part of which was as follows: "I think I had 
better learn to talk German. To be sure, I 

86 






THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

can say 'Ich liabe kein gelt/ but that does not 
seem to be enough. Why! what do you think? 
This morning at the table I asked the waiter 
for a teaspoon, and what do you think he 
brought me! A postal card! And I spoke 
just as plainly as I could, too." So we said 
"goodbye" to the mountains of solid rock, 
pierced oftentimes to the very heart by rail- 
way tunnels, and to the green vineyards and 
romantic castles, with which our journey up 
the Khine was so charmingly associated. No 
person who has ever taken that matchless 
journey will doubt that we did so with regret. 
A train in th'e nature of a steam tramcar con- 
veyed us from Biebrich to Wiesbaden, and it 
was towards evening when we found our- 
selves comfortably ensconced in a neat little 
hotel in the latter city. A pedestrian tour of 
the town, taken while light lasted, convinced 
us that the beauties of the place had not been 
overestimated. It lies upon the side of a hill, 
and seem* to be creeping up to its summit. 
There are streets and streets of the most at- 
tractive looking hotels, and many of the 
buildings which are known in that country as 
pensions." It almost seemed as if one would 
be willing to be an invalid, if in that way he 

87 



u 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

could find an excuse for a protracted stay at 
such a beautiful place. A search for the fa- 
mous hot water springs disclosed a large 
building set at one end of a pretty park. In 
a little room at one end of a long, airy hall 
the brown water was bubbling and boiling 
away at a great rate. The spring was sur- 
rounded by a railing and approached by a 
descending set of steps. Many emaciated 
looking persons were sitting around on the 
benches partaking of the water. It was dipped 
up in glasses by the attendants and handed 
to all who desired to drink it, for a voluntary 
fee. It is, however, so hot when it is first 
dipped up that one must wait a few minutes 
before tasting it, After watching the 
seething water for a while we decided to take 
a drink of it. As I had always stood in the 
ranks of the temperance people, I was exceed- 
ingly suspicious of everything that was 
offered me to drink while in Europe. Whether 
or not this suspicion extended to mo simple a 
thing as mineral water, I hardly know. At 
any rate, it was decided that my husband 
should be the first one to partake of the sup- 
posed delectable waters of the Wiesbaden 
springs. 



88 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

He took a long draught and pretended to be 
delighted with the taste. I might have re- 
membered that he never lost an opportunity 
to play a joke on me, but I trusted him in this 
case, and quickly followed his example. But 
ugh! I can fairly taste it yet, the horrible, 
hot, salty stuff! It was so strong as to be 
fairly biting. I disposed of the nfouthful 
which I had taken, as well as I could, 
and assumed to be entirely indifferent 
to the enjoyment of any other members 
of the party over the incident. I de- 
cided then and there, however, that 1 
would rather not be sick even for the 
pleasure of the Wiesbaden surroundings if I 
had to drink that water in order to recover. 
As we continued our stroll about the beauti- 
ful city w r e found ourselves continually com- 
ing in contact with signs reading "So-and-so 
(some German words), verboten." Now we 
agreed as to the meaning of the word "ver- 
boten," but in every case differed as to just 
what w r as verboten. Each one took a different 
side and sustained it with zeal. After a num- 
ber of these debates we decided that as we 
were probably not committing any of the 
"verboten" acts (though each one hinted that 

89 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the other might be doing so, as they could not 
understand the words), it was quite unneces- 
sary that we should agree upon the subject. 

It would be impossible for any one not to 
leave the delightful parks, fountains, groves 
and walks of this attractive German city 
without the keenest regret, and as we took 
the train for Heidelberg that afternoon we 
contributed our full share to the general 
stock. We went by way of Mayence and 
Darmstadt, and enjoyed to the fullest extent 
the short stay which our time table allowed us 
at e^ch one of these unique and interesting 
places. The scenery through which the train 
passes is beautiful, consisting of thickly 
wooded mountains, each one capped with a 
castle or fortress from which a flag was fly- 
ing. The castles gave a spice of romance to 
the surroundings, which it is impossible for 
other scenery, no matter how grand to pos- 
sess. It was here we first found that 
there were some compartments upon the 
train which were reserved exclusively for 
women. No man is allowed to enter them, 
even if they go from station to station en- 
tirely empty. This rule is enforced much 
more strictly than is the one for "no smok- 

90 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ing." An exploration of the city of Heidel- 
berg revealed the fact that it was much more 
modern in its appearance than some of the 
other places which we had visited, and for 
that reason not so interesting. However, one 
could not forget that it was Heidelberg with 
that magnificent castle overhanging the town 
and visible from almost every part of it. The 
castle is called the most magnificent ruin in 
Germany, and we felt amply repaid for the 
long climb which we were obliged to take be- 
fore it could be explored. It is impossible to 
describe this structure, as it has so- many dif- 
ferent parts. After you have wandered 
through many halls and grounds and gone up 
and down many steps you feel that you do not 
know much about it yourself. It is made of 
red stone, now crumbling of course, but an 
effort is being made to preserve it from fur- 
ther decay. Our visit to the castle occurred 
upon some kind of an anniversary of the city, 
and a celebration was in progress to com- 
memorate the event. I asked a bystander why 
so many pretty and attractive girls were com- 
ing to the castle in picturesque costumes. I 
succeeded in making him understand what I 
wanted to know by the use of some very crude 



91 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

German, and he made me understand in 
about as crude English that, there was to be 
music and wine in the basement of the castle. 
"And are these young ladies to pass the 
wine?" I asked. "Oh, no," he replied. "They 
come to help drink it." It began to pour 
down torrents of rain before the young ladies 
had arrived, and not the least interesting 
part of the morning was that spent in watch- 
ing them get from their carriages to the shel- 
ter of the castle all freshly and daintily be- 
decked as they were. 

After the rain was over we started on our 
journey up the mountain again. (The castle 
is only a small part of the way up, and a good 
long pull it was before we reached the top, 
7,800 feet above the sea level. The outlook 
from the summit of this Heidelberg mountain 
seems to command a view of the entire world. 
What we really did see was the beautiful val- 
ley of the Ehine and Necker. In the after- 
noon we devoted ourselves to the inspection 
of the university. 



92 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER X. 

HEIDELBERG UNIVERSITY AND SOME OTHER EXPERI- 
ENCES. BLACK FOREST AND FALLS OF THE RHINE. 

Although we knew that the Germans were 
not much given to the outward adornment of 
their institutions of learning, we were hardly 
prepared for the extreme plainness, nay, even 
shabbiness, of the buildings of the famous 
"Heidelberg University." They are situated 
upon low ground, and hence are not visible 
until one is directly upon them. Our visit was 
in the afternoon, when we found the univer- 
sity for the most part deserted by students 
and professors. As the doors stood open, we 
made free to enter and explore such rooms as 
we did not find locked. The recitation and 
lecture rooms which we saw were small and 
plain. They resembled the interior of a coun- 
try school house of the old days in our land. 
The desks and benches were of the rudest 
pine boards, sometimes hacked and marred. A 
little later we saw a number of students en- 
tering one of the doors, and taking it for 
granted that a recitation was about to begin, 



93 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

asked one of them if we might enter. The 
young man to whom we had spoken seemed 
troubled and grieved at the answer which his 
duty compelled him to give, viz: the man 
might enter, but not the woman. We had a 
peep into the art gallery (small and dingy, 
and filled with plaster casts); also into the 
library and other parts of the different build- 
ings. As we strolled away, after a last back- 
ward glance at the bare brown buildings, we 
decided that the reputation of the institution 
must depend upon something else than the 
buildings w T hich made up its outer covering. 
We could not then take time to investigate 
the methods and courses of study, but left 
that part, which of course would have been 
more interesting and profitable, to a less busy 
occasion. ♦ 

A very amusing incident occurred at the 
restaurant where we took our lunch that day. 
As the noon hour found us some distance 
from our hotel we went into this restaurant, 
and ordered our dinner as best we could from 
the German bill of fare, and a buxom German 
waiting girl. After the meal had been brought 
the maiden smiled politely and said: "Und 
vas fur drinken?" We replied: "Wasser," 



94 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

"Wasser?" she repeated, in a very puzzled 
way, and shook her head as if she had never 
heard the word before. "Wasser," we both 




repeated, in loud tones, and in our best Ger- 
man, thinking we might not be pronouncing 
the word correctly. "Kaltes wasser. Kaltes 
wasser." She again shook her head dubiously. 
We soon overheard what seemed to be an 
earnest discussion on the subject between the 
waiting girl and the mistress of the hotel in 
another room. After a while she returned, 
bearing in her hands two bottles (sealed) of a 
clear looking liquid. As she was about to un- 
cork them we protested and shook our heads 
and sadly repeated "wasser." She retired 
again with the bottles in seeming disgust, but 
it was only a few minutes before she returned 
again, this time triumphant, with some real 



95 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ice water in a glass jar. As our thirst had in- 
creased tremendously from the instant we be- 
gan to fear that no water would be forthcom- 
ing, we each took a drink and were much re- 
lieved. 

This episode I have referred to as amusing. 
Not so the one which occurred at the hotel- 
the next morning when we went to settle our 
bill. We had a charming room, comfortably 
furnished and looking directly out upon the 
mountains with the castle in the distance. 
When we inquired the price of the room we 
were sufficiently unsophisticated to suppose 
that the sum mentioned was the real price 
which we would be expected to pay. But we 
were not allowed to depart so cheaply. 

But perhaps the lesson which we learned 
that morning was worth the price. I don't 
know. When the landlord was asked for the 
bill he flew into a high temper, and cried out 
in a quite unnecessarily loud voice (our hear- 
ing being good): "You haf order no beer. I 
make no money. I could haf rent de room to 
some peoples who order beer. I charge you 
two marks extra because you haf order no 
beer." It was true that we had ordered no 
beer. We had not wanted any. But we had not 



96 



f 
THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

supposed that in omitting this beverage from 
our bill of fare we were committing so grave 
a crime as the tone and manner of the land- 
lord would seem to indicate. As we did not 
wish to fall into the hands of the police in a 
country where we understood neither the 
laws nor the language, w^e paid the extra 
charge, equal to about fifty cents in our 
money. I for my part would rather have 
paid out a much larger sum than swallow a 




drop of that ill smelling liquid. Still the idea 
of having to pay because we did not drink 
beer roused feelings in my American heart 
which would not look well on paper, and so I 
shall not put them down. While, as I said 
before, I have never known the time when 1 
did not consider myself a temperance person, 
I had not realized how strong my temperance 

97 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

sentiments were until I found myself in a 
place where I could not get away from the 
smell of beer, ana until I saw T people drink 
and drink and drink until I was forced to 
wonder how they had any time or energy left 
to live. Indeed, the- information and imagiria- 
tion of these people does not extend so far as 
to include the idea that there are people in 
the world who do not drink as they do. Hence 
it came about that the landlord neglected to 
make any definite stipulation upon the sub- 
ject before renting us the room. However, we 
realized that he got the best of it that time, 
for he had his money and his beer, too. One 
thing we are not likely to forget. That is 
that the manufacture of beer is the chief in- 
dustry of Heidelberg, and when I write a 
guide book I shall be tempted to say that the 
chief occupation is drinking it. 

After Heidelberg, came the long antici- 
pated tour of the "Black Forest of Germany." 
The Black Forest holds so much of romance 
in its very name that it hardly needs the at- 
traction of historic interest and rare natural 
beauty to add to its fascination. This mount- 
ainous district receives its name from the 
dense growth of tall, straight pine trees, 



98 



\ 
THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

which are not exactly black, but whose 
weather worn bark has that appearance, es- 
pecially from a distance. Not being satisfied 
with the flying glimpses which we were able 
to snatch from the windows of the train, we 
decided to get off at one of the little villages 
which nestle in the ravines, and explore the 
country on foot. After some inquiry we se- 
lected the village of Triburg as being the 
most typical, and also as surrounded by the 
most beautiful and picturesque scenery. 

At Triburg, therefore, we left the train, 
and selecting an attractive looking path, be- 
gan the ascent of the mountains. 

The village of Triburg, in the very midst 
of the Black Forest, winds along for a con- 
siderable distance through a narrow ravine. 
Its one street is hemmed in on either side by 
mountains, always steep and in some places 
composed of solid rock. The railway station 
where we left the train was at one end of the 
street and the scenery was at the other end. 
As we followed the zigzag course we won- 
dered what it was w r hich induced people to 
spend their lives in such a place. To be sure, 
the scenery w r as pretty and wild and pictur- 
esque, but what was there to eat? 
L.ofC. 

99 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

It did. not seem to me that they could sell 
enough of the little hand carved trinkets, such 
as animals, paper knives, boxes and so forth, 
to bring in a living for very many. However, 
as we did not have to settle the question for 
them we did not allow it to worry us, but dis- 
missed the matter with the reflection that 
they probably did not know that there was 
any other place to live, and so lived there as a 
matter of course. 

The most attractive feature of the walk 
which we took up the mountain that morning 
was the stream which rushed down the 
gorge. There was very little water all told, 
but the bed of the stream was so steep and 
rocky that it kept what water there was bub- 
bling and boiling and leaping in a most fear- 
ful and wonderful manner. Sometimes there 
would be long expanses of waterfall, but so 
thin and gauzy as to give the effect of delicate 
lace. Occasionally the path led across the 
stream by a rustic bridge, and it was always 
with a little shiver that I found myself sepa- 
rated only by a few rude timbers from that 
angry little torrent. We wandered up and 
up through the maze of tall, straight dark- 
barked pine trees, while the ground was cov- 

100 



s 
THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ered with a profusion of different kinds of 
ferns and many creeping plants with which I 
was not familiar. The ponderous rocks, 
thickly overgrown with moss, were also a 
prominent feature of the landscape. In about 
an hour we had reached the top, where there 
was a pleasant little eating house, which we 
were glad to patronize after the exertions of 
the ascent. The descent was easier and 
quicker, during which we did not neglect to 
appropriate all we could carry of the beauti- 
ful ferns and stones which abounded, as sou- 
venirs of this part of the world which had 
hitherto been such an unknown country to 
us. We made our way back to the railway 
station and taking our seat upon the outside, 
were interested in watching the preparations 
which were being made for the incoming 
train. Tables were brought out and placed 
as near as possible to the place where the 
train would stop. These were set with cov- 
ers, and dishes containing different kinds of 
food were placed upon them. There were 
sandwiches, cakes, fruits,milk, and, of course, 
liquors. As the train rolled in, heads were 
thrust from all the windows and the refresh- 
ments were in great demand. Among all the 



101 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

unintelligible jargon of different languages 
which were being used in the station, we were 
attracted by hearing in the flattest kind of 
Yankee accent (not even English, but pure 
American), the question: "How much does 
that cost?" 

We looked at each other as if to inquire 
what there was about that simple expression 
which made it almost startle us. We then 
became conscious that it was the first real 
"United States," apart from what we had 
used in our own conversation, which we had 
heard since we left London. I might add 
that we did not hear much "United 
States" while in Londoin. The pleasure 
which this little incident gave us was quite 
out of proportion to its importance. We hap- 
pened to enter the car from which the voice 
had come, and found there a conducted party 
of Americans, with whom we were soon on 
the best of terms, thus adding much to the 
pleasure of the ride for that day. We had not 
intended to go aside from the beaten path to 
visit the "Falls of the Khine," which are seen 
to the best advantage from the little town of 
Neuhausen. Especially since almost the last 
thing we had seen before leaving the United 

102 



s 

THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

States was Niagara Falls. But during the 
progress of the journey we had heard so much 
about these falls that we decided w T e had bet- 
ter see them if only to discover for ourselves 
how little they were. So we went to Neu- 
hausen that afternoon and arrived there in 
time to see by daylight the picturesque little 
waterfall, which seems like a mere toy as 
compared with the monstrous American tor- 
rent. We "put up" at a little German hotel, 
where no word of English was spoken, and I 
do not quite understand yet how T they made 
us comprehend that at half past nine that 
evening the falls would be illuminated by 
means of electric lights. ' We felt of course 
that we must not miss that, and so prepared 
ourselves for the somew T hat long walk which 
lay between the hotel and the falls. A driz- 
zling rain had begun to fall at dusk, and the 
town was as dark as pitch. We tried to cut 
across lots, and found ourselves mixed up 
with a vacant lot, a barbed wire fence and 
som,e long wet grass, and were obliged to re- 
trace our steps a number of times and ask 
directions of people who could not under- 
stand a word we said, and, taking it all to- 
gether, it was not a pleasant walk at all. 



103 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

When we finally reached the falls it seemed 
to me that the feeble searchlight which was 
creeping back and forth upon them was weird 
and uncanny, and produced more the effect of 
a ghost's lantern than an illumination. I 
thought it would be more sensible to light up 
the places where people had to walk than that 
little waterfall. How one's impression of the 
beauty of a thing is affected by the circum- 
stances under which it is seen! 



104 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XI. 

ZURICH. ENTRANCING BEAUTIES ABOUT LUCERNE. 
THE RIDE UP MOUNT RIGI. 

Early the next morning we took the train 
for the Swiss city of Zurich, where we spent 
the day. We found it very interesting. It 
lies partly on a hillside, and some of the 
streets are merely a succession of staircases, 
although regularly laid out and beautifully 
kept. The rushing little river which winds 
through the town breaks up the monotony, 
and there are any number of pretty bridges. 
We first climbed the hill to the "Polytechnic 
School/' for which educational institution 
this city is noted all over the world. The 
buildings are beautifully located, and from 
the exterior present a more modern appear- 
ance than those of the University of Heidel- 
berg. But the interior seemed very crude as 
compared with our American colleges. There 
was a fine collection of statuary, which we 
were allowed to inspect for a pecuniary con- 
sideration, and an exceptionally fine library 



105 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

and reading room. That is, the backs of the 
books were attractive, but our knowledge of 
the language was not sufficient to allow us to 
read them. Continuing our explorations, 
we w r alked out to the lake which lies at one 
end of the town. This was our first introduc- 
tion to those wonderfully beautiful lakes of 
Switzerland. Although we saw many more 
afterwards, and some that were more beauti- 
ful than the one at Zurich, I shall never forget 
the first impression which it produced upon 
my mind. This particular lake is somewhat 
long and narrow, and has hanging over it to 
a peculiar degree that remarkable bluish- 
green hazy tint which, combined with the 
deep blue of the water, produces a most 
charming effect. Picturesque green hills rise 
on each side as far as the eye can reach. These 
are dotted with trees and pretty houses. Elab- 
orate bathing houses for both men and 
women line the shores of the lake, and judg- 
ing from appearances the pastime of swim- 
ming is very popular in Zurich. The shops 
were attractive, and the streets were wide. 

When we left Zurich we began to realize 
that we were approaching the most interest- 
ing and in some respects the most memorable 

106 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

part of our entire journey. We realized this 
to the full later on. Our next stopping place 
was the city of Lucerne, which, together with 
the lake and its surroundings, come as near 
making an earthly paradise out of natural 
scenery as any spot known to man. The 
sentiment was most heartily echoed by us 
that "for picturesque magnificence of situa- 
tion Lucerne is unsurpassed, being placed as 
it were an, amphitheater formed by the sur- 
rounding hills and facing the beautiful lake 
and the great mountains which hem it in." 
There are a number of interesting things in 
the city, but our interest centered about the 
wonderful "Lion." It is hard to realize just 
what the Lion is until one has seen it for 
oneself. As the pictures and copies of this 
animal are so widely spread, every one knows 
that it is the figure of an immense lion repre- 
sented at the moment- of passing through the 
death struggle, and with the fatal arrow still 
in his back. It was carved out of a solid moun- 
tain of gray rock after a smaller model by 
Thorwaldsen, in honor of the bravery of the 
Swiss guards who fell in defending the Tuil- 
leries in August, 1792. I had pictured this 
magnificent beast, which has always been a 



107 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

favorite of mine, as away by itself in some 
lonely mountain place where it was wild and 
rocky and steep. But I was surprised and a 
little disappointed to find that the immense 




rock out of which it is carved is in the very 
heart of the city, and is surrounded by a 
pleasant little park where ducks swim quietly 
in artificial ponds, and where youthful 
couples visit upon shady benches. But there 
it is, the same wonderful Lion. It took me a 
few seconds to adjust my previous concep- 
tions of the surroundings to the actual con- 
ditions, but after that was done it would be 



108 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

difficult for me to exaggerate the feeling of 
pleasure which I experienced in really seeing 
this beautiful creation which had existed for 
so long in my mind only as a picture. 

Aside from the "Lion" the city of Lucerne 
is much the same as the other cities of Swit- 
zerland. That is, it is clean, well kept and 
picturesque, with some modern buildings 
mixed up with ancient architecture. The 
banks of the beautiful "Lake of Lucerne" (to 
my mind the most beautiful of any in that lo- 
cality), are dotted every few miles with tiny 
mountain villages. As the mountains ap- 
proach the lake rather precipitately, there 
is very little room for these villages, and they 
are obliged to creep up the sides of the hills. 
There are usually two or three hotels upon 
the immediate bank of the lake, while the 
residence portion in a scattering way dots the 
green hills. These villages, as indicated by 
the size and character of the hotels, are fre- 
quented by tourists from all over the world. 
There can hardly be a more beautiful spot in 
which to spend the leisure hours of a summer 
vacation. As is familiar to all, the far-famed 
"Kigi Kulm" is one of the mountains which 
rises from the shores of Lake Lucerne. It is 



109 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

not because this mountain is so high that it is 
so popular, but because such a beautiful and 
unobstructed view may be obtained from the 
summit. It is claimed that a circuit of three 
hundred miles may be swept by the eye, in- 
cluding a perfect panorama of sky, lakes and 
mountains. We had planned to spend a night 
upon the summit of Rigi, in the hope of seeing 
the beautiful sunrise which is now so famous 
all over the world. Accordingly, in the late 
afternoon of a most perfect day we took a lake 
steamer from Lucerne, and went ashore at 




Vitznau, from which place an electric road 
ascends to the summit. The boat ride was 
delightful. The peculiar deep blue green of 



no 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the water and the soft haze which has been 
mentioned as the striking feature of the Swiss 
lakes, exist here to a marked degree. While 
the ride up the mountain was wonderful, I 
cannot say that it was pleasant. Probably I 
am too earthy to enjoy being lifted skyward 
at such a rapid pace. In many places we 
seemed to be going straight up, and a glance 
over the side of the open car was not reassur- 
ing. Especially was this the case when the 
great ravines were being crossed. The cattle 
and sheep browsing below looked like toys, 
and the towns which nestled there seemed like 
doll houses. We had not gone far before we 
w r ere glad to put on the heavy wraps which 
we had been advised to take with us, in spite 
of the intense heat which prevailed below. It 
seems almost presumptuous to think of de- 
scribing an evening and morning spent on 
Mount Kigi, since so many have done so be- 
fore me. Still I am impressed that each one 
who sees this marvelous sight sees it in his 
own w T ay, no matter how many times he may 
have heard it described. The sun was just 
setting in a perfectly clear sky when the car 
in which we were sitting neared the top of the 
mountain. There is really nothing like it in 

111 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the world, and I have studied long to find 
what it is which makes it so beautiful. The 
entire horizon is a delicate, almost tender 
pink, a color which I am quite unable to de- 
scribe, but whose predominating element is 
softness. You can imagine that if you could 
only touch it with your hand it would feel 
like the softest of soft down. Then, as the 
sun sank out of sight, a shaft of light, bril- 
liant, but partaking of the same softness 
which has been mentioned before, shot far up 
v into the heavens from the place where he had 
disappeared. At the hotel we found active 
preparations in progress for an early "turn 
out," as there w T as every prospect of that 
somewhat unusual occurrence, a clear sun- 
rise. Every train which came up the mount- 
ain was loaded with tourists who had been 
lingering, perhaps for days, in the towns at 
the foot of the mountain, awaiting the realiz- 
ation of their hopes. It is quite needless to 
say that the favorable outlook added materi- 
ally to the excitement as far as we ourselves 
were concerned, with which the day had been 
filled. 

At four o'clock in the morning the bugle 
sounded through the large hall of the 

112 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

hotel, and the greatest possible bustle 
and scurrying ensued. In the dim morn- 
ing light we could see the snow capped 
summits of the Bernese Alps stretching 
away on every side to the horizon. It 
took but a few minutes to discover that the 
sky was perfectly clear, and by the time we 
reached the elevation just above the hotel 
there was the same delicate suffusion of pink 
all around the horizon which had accompa- 
nied the setting sun. A few small clouds 
which were hovering just above the spot 
where we w r ei*e looking for the sun to appear, 
grew little by little to look like brilliant 
masses of gold. Then they became rosy and 
soon a deep pink. A glance in the opposite 
direction disclosed the tips of the Eiger and 
Youngfrau gorgeously lighted by the rays of 
the sun, which came to them first on account 
of their height. Then, just above the edge of 
the horizon, appeared the blood red rim, like 
the edge of a large fiery eye, gleaming 
through the mist. (For it was still far from 
being daylight.) Little by little, like some 
animal rising slowly to its feet in the dusk, 
the whole sun appeared. Our eyes fell before 
its intensity, and we were glad to turn and 



113 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

enjoy the effect of its full force upon the 
snow covered mountains opposite. There is 
little to be said in comparison with what one 
feels after having seen a sight like this. Si- 
lently we .watched the heavy mists as they 
rose gradually from the valleys below. Some- 
times they arose as clouds and floated away 
over the distant hilltops. Again they simply 
melted before the strengthening rays of the 
sun. We decided to walk down the mount- 
ain, and although the jaunt was long and 
tiresome, we felt well repaid for the weari- 
ness which it brought us by the added 
beauties which we were able to enjoy. It 
seemed actually wicked to leave the beautiful 
scenery through which we passed. Lake Lu- 
cerne was constantly in sight below us with 
the deep blue of its waters, the mysterious 
haze which rested upon it, the beautiful green 
of the trees and grass, the snowcapped mount- 
ains in the distance, and the blue sky hang- 
ing high above all. It was no wonder that it 
seemed like a dream from which we must 
soon awaken. The little village of Vitznau, 
at the foot of the mountain, was alive with 
tourists who came trooping in from all sides 
to take the incoming boat back to Lucerne. 

114 



"THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Every one was in the best of spirits because 
they had seen the sun rise, the sight which 
many have stayed weeks to see, and then been 
obliged to go away disappointed. A man 
upon the top of Eigi told us that up to that 
morning it had been a month since there had 
been a clear sunrise. No wonder we all felt 
happy. Later we took the boat from Lucerne 
to Fluelen, which lies at the extreme end of 
the lake, a distance of twent f y-flve miles. 

The external conditions, upon which so 
much depends, were favorable, and the ride 
was fine. The sun was just sinking away be- 
hind the mountains in that perfect blueness 
which the sky and clouds combine to effect, 
when the boat drew up at Fluelen, and we 
went ashore for the night. Before we landed 
we had come to realize in a number of ways 
that we were in the "William Tell" country. 
Along the lake shore a chapel had appeared, 
and a monument said to be devoted to this 
hero, whose existence and brave deeds are 
clouded by no shadow of doubt in the minds 
of the people here. Later we learned that it 
was at the little village of Altdorf, two miles 
from the lake, that the shooting of the apple 
is declared to have occurred. We break- 



115 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

fasted early the next morning and started foi* 
a walk to Altdorf. It is well named the "old 
village," for the signs of .antiquity abound. A 
fantastically colored statue of Christ stands 
in an open square. By threading your way up 
a stone flagged path enclosed by high stone 
walls you will find yourself in* front of a 
Jesuit chapel. In the rear there stands a 
monastery, and the solemn looking brethren 
in their long black gowns and round flat hats 
flit about the place. The door of the little 
chapel stood wide open on that summer morn- 
ing, and feeling free to enter, we did so. We 
found no human being within, but there was 
a distinctively perceptible atmosphere in- 
duced by the candles which were burning 
upon the altar, the faces of divinities and 
saints which were painted upon the wall, of 
quiet meditation and spirituality to which 
we could not be insensible. We returned to 
the village and sought the historic spot where 
William Tell stood when he shot the famous 
arrow which meant so much to the liberties of 
Switzerland. A large and handsome bronze 
statue of Tell and his son, representing them 
as going to the place of trial, marks the spot 
where the father is supposed to have stood, 



116 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

while at a distance of seventy feet a fountain 
marks the position of the son. Inscribed in 
the stone above the statue we read the fol- 
lowing lines: 

"Erzahlen wird man von dem Schutzen Tell 
So lang die Berge steh'n auf Ihrem Grunde." 

So it is quite evident that the "Tell" story 
is no fable to his countrymen. Throughout 
this region, which might be called the country 
district of Switzerland, we came in contact 
with conditions which must be described as 
abject poverty. We came near enough to the 
people to see for ourselves that there is really 
little to live on in that rocky, mountainous 
country, even though it is so picturesque and 
attractive to travelers. And yet there was 
that constant object lesson of thrift and 
cleanliness which returned to us again and 
again during our travels through the cities 
and towns to the south of the Alps. We often 
realized the truth of the declaration that one 
may spend most any amount of time in a 
Swiss village delightfully, but nothing is 
more disagreeable than to be obliged to spend 
a night in a small Italian town. 



117 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XII. 

LEAVE SWITZERLAND FOR HISTORIC ITALY. CATHE- 
DRAL AND OTHER ART WORKS OF MILAN. 

Our sojourn in Switzerland was at a close, 
and we were now ready to go southward. Ac- 
cordingly, we find ourselves standing upon 
the railway platform waiting for the coming 
of the train which is to bear us across the 
Alps. And after the Alps — Italy. Italy— 
which up to that moment had existed for me 
only as a boot shaped portion of color upon 
the map, extending down between the blue 
waters of the Adriatic and the Mediterranean. 
In a few short hours that country where so 
much has happened of interest to the rest of 
the world would be a reality. The famous art 
treasures, which so far had only been seen 
through the eyes of others, would cease to be 
a dream and become a reality. Thoughts like 
these are crowding themselves in our minds 
as we say "goodbye" to the green banks and 
blue waters of the beautiful Lake Lucerne, 
which we are reconciled to do only by the 
thought of the glories yet to come. 



118 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

The crossing of the Alps had occupied no 
small part in the eager anticipation in which 
a European trip had always been held, and it 
seemed impossible to believe that we were so 
near them. We had arranged to go by way of 
the St. Gothard Pass, both because it. was 
more convenient and because we wished to 
see this marvel of mechanical engineering 
which the railroad constituted. The approach 
to the Alps is gradual, that is, at first the 
country is nearly level, then somewhat 
broken and uneven, and finally the real maj- 
esty of the Alps comes into view. The St. 
Gothard Pass is through the mountains 
rather than over them, for there is a constant 
succession of tunnels of different lengths. The 
ride from the standpoint of enjoyment was a 
disappointment. The small compartment 
cars were dimly lighted, and most of the time 
filled with dense smoke. It surely would be 
difficult to imagine what pleasure could be 
derived from gazing through car smoke at the 
dim outlines of strangers, even though you do 
try to realize that you are tearing through the 
very bowels of the historic Alps. The ride 
settled itself into a succession of plunging 
through tunnels and dashing over terrible 



119 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

precipices. Often the heights were made 
more dizzy by the sight of raging mountain 
torrents which rushed below the railway 
span. Whenever a sudden rush of daylight 
indicated that we were in an opening we has- 
tened to thrust our heads out of the window, 
jerking them in again when we approached 
the ubiquitous tunnel, lest they might be 
knocked off. After this process had been re- 
peated for the best part of a hot afternoon our 
eyes and necks ached, and our throats were 
filled with car smoke, and we felt that we had 
done our duty by the "St. Gothard Pass." As 
the last tunnel was left behind and the train 
rolled out under the blue ^kj of Italy, we 
drew long breaths of relief. Our first stop 
was at Chiasso, the border town between 
Switzerland and Italy. Here the train was 
emptied of everything which it contained, in- 
cluding passengers, hand luggage and trunks, 
as all baggage must be opened and examined 
by the custom officers. The station was the 
scene of the wildest confusion. We felt that 
those who had saved their heads while going 
over the pass were more than likely to lose 
them here. The train had been very full, 
there were only three custom officers, and 

120 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

everybody wanted his baggage examined first. 
It al^o seemed to me that they were more 
than usually thorough on this occasion in the 
matter of examination. We only had hand 
luggage, and so succeeded in getting through 
quickly. But I was sorry for the young ladies 
whose carefully packed trunks were ruth- 
lessly thrown open and whose dainty ward- 
robes were hauled out and hurriedly thrust 
back again by these swarthy Italians. The 
disagreeable part of it was the hurried and 
rough way in which everything was done. But 
it was soon over (including a season of wait- 
ing in a kind of iron pen outside where the 
passengers were hustled as fast as their bag- 
gage had been examined, to wait until all was 
ready), and we were on our way to our next 
stop, which was the Italian city of Milan. As 
we looked back from the car upon the reced- 
ing mountains I seemed to grow weary of 
them and wished that I could rest my eyes 
with a long stretch of prairie again. In spite 
of this feeling, I believe that were I to live 
for any considerable time among these moun- 
tains, every old bald, scraggy peak would be- 
come as dear to me as my own kith and kin, 
and I should long intensely for a sight of 
them when away. 

121 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

We reached Milan at about seven o'clock in 
the evening, and after finding a hotel, again 
indulged in a gaslight pedestrian tour. How 
we missed the 'buses of London, from the top 
of which one can see so much by parting with 
a few copper pennies. Although Milan ranks 
among the very first of the cities of Italy as 
an art center, the finest of the world's paint- 
ings are not there. But the architecture is so 
beautiful that we enjoyed most what might 
be called an "outside view." 

First among the wonders and beauties of 
Milan I would place the magnificent cathe- 
dral. I have already referred to the fact that 
by this time we were omitting the cathedrals 
from our lists of sights. But the Milan ca- 
thedral stands quite apart from all others of 
its kind, and is one of the things which I re- 
member best. It w^as a delightfully cool and 
breezy mlorning when we visited the cathe- 
dral, and we climbed innumerable flights of 
white stone steps to the very top of it. The 
marble of this building is really a pure white, 
and not a dirty gray, as are most of the build- 
ings which are described in the guide book 
as pure white. Just think of 2,000 statues on 
the outside of a church, and all of them so 



122 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

perfect as to bear the closest inspection. The 
stairs which wind around the exterior of the 
building enable you to study the architectural 
beauties of it to the very best advantage. As 
we climbed up and up we seemed to be pass- 
ing through a veritable forest of exquisite 
statuary and finely chiseled turrets. I have 
forgotten how high the building is, but fig- 
ures do not count for much anyway when one 
feels oneself so near to heaven. I remem- 
ber that when we stepped out upon one of the 
larger openings about one-half of the way up, 
we came upon a younsr American girl whom 
we had seen before upon the journey. She 
seemed to be entirely alone, but evidently was 
not lonesome, for she had a kodak in her hand 
and was busy securing pictures of the statu- 
ary, towers and steeples among which she 
was standing. For me, the Milan cathedral 
was one of the few things of which I felt that 
T would rather retain the mental picture 
w r hich I had gained than bring away a picture 
upon paper. 

There are many other interesting churches 
in Milan besides this great cathedral. We 
visited the one called the "Church of St. 
Mary," noted for containing the original of 



123 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Leonardo de Vinci's painting of tlhe "Last 
Supper. " This painting covers the entire end 
wall of a room called the refectory, situated 
at one corner of the church. There is nothing 
in the room except copies of the painting, 
both in colors and in black and white, and 
chairs for the convenience of the spectators. 
The picture itself is so faded and so many 
portions of the plaster are chipped off that 
there is no pleasure to be derived from an in- 
spection of it. One can hardly be reconciled 
to the fact that such masterpieces as these 
are so exposed to the attacks of material de- 
cay, and we feel very much like scolding 
somebody, although we do not know whom, 
because this picture was not painted upon a 
canvas by itself where it could be taken care 
of, as it ought to be. But it is too late for that 
now, and so there stands a rather dismal re- 
minder of the fact that all mian-made things 
must inevitably fade, no matter how precious 
or beautiful they may be. There are many 
fine copies of the painting about the room, 
and I felt that I had in some measure secured 
an idea of the original in its earlier days. 

There was another church called the 
"Church of St. Ambrose." I look back upon 

124 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

this church with something of the same feel- 
ing with which one recalls a mummy. I felt- 
that it had been alive once, but now was dead. 
You went down to get into it, and the floor 
was of decaying red stone. It was a peculiar 
shape, and there were old and decrepit men 
wandering through it. Some of them were 
crossing themselves and praying, and others 
followed us around to beg. There was a sort 
of court at the back, where old women were 
drawing water at a pump. I wondered why 
they did not pull the old church down and 
build a new T one, but they do not do such 
things in Italy, but hang on to the old things 
until they fall down of their own weight. I 
want to speak of one other interesting thing 
in Milan. That is the "Victor Emanuel Gal- 
lery." Now, to me the word "gallery" had 
always suggested one of two things: either 
the upstairs in a church or theater, or a room 
devoted to pictures (for taking them or ex- 
hibiting them). As the latter meaning had 
obtained so far in our travels, w T e supposed 
that it would do so the same here, and entered 
what we supposed must be the passageway to 
the picture room. But we soon found (I have 
forgotten whether it was by intuition or from 



125 



the story of a European tour. 

the guide book) that the passageway was the 
gallery itself. I cannot tell just how we got 
into the place or how we got out of it, and I 
also feel quite unable to tell what it was like. 
One must imagine two wide perfectly clean 
streets cutting each other after the manner of 
a Greek cross. A glass roof is over the top, 
and the light in the evening was as brilliant 
as electricity could make it. It is only in the 
evening that it is interesting, for when we 
went through it the next morning we found it 
as quiet as a churchyard. The gayest of 
shops, interspersed with eating and drinking 
places, line the sides. It is thronged with 
beautifullv dressed men and women. We 
walked around with the rest of the well 
dressed people, forgetting the while our own 
travel worn appearance. After a while we 
grew weary, and thought that it was time for 
them all to go home and go to bed. We did 
not tell them so, however, but went away our- 
selves and left them there, after staring at 
them and at the shop windows until our 
heads ached. Although Milan is in Italy, it 
is not essentially different from the cities to 
the north of the Alps. It is remarkable how 
things gradually change as you move south- 

126 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUIt. 

ward. Th£ sun is hotter, the air is dryer, the 
cars are dirtier, and the traveler becomes con- 
scious of an indescribable mixture of the most 
peculiar and disagreeable odors, from which 
he does not seem to escape until he again 
clears the Alps going northward. We had 
been told that "nobody with any sense goes 
to Italy in summer," and after a few hours of 
the heat and the smells, we were quite ready 
to agree that the saying was a true one. 



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THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

VENICE FULFILLS HIGHEST ANTICIPATIONS. THE 
ARRIVAL. 

Venice! The "Bride of the Adriatic. " One 
can almost forget the discomforts of the local- 
ity when once this wonderful city comes into 
view. The sun was nearing its setting as the 
train rolled over the wide lagoon which must 
be crossed before the city is entered. I shall 
never forget (at least I hope I never may) how 
the water glistened all around us, how bril- 
liant the buildings in the distance were, and 
how blue the sky was above all. I felt that 
I must be dreaming. For there is only one 
Venice, and that had always been so far 
away. Well! we did not actually get out of 
the cars into a boat, for the station was sur- 
rounded by a large stone platform. But the 
gondoliers were flocking all around the edge 
of this platform, and crowding each other and 
shouting, and there was all of the confusion 
and commotion about which one always hears 
from those who have been there. Runners 



128 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

from the different hotels were in evidence 
upon every side, each one bearing upon his 
cap the name of his establishment. We were 
attracted by the appearance of one little fel- 
low who announced to us that he represented 
an "English hotel/' and we proceeded to 
mtike terms with him. Although the gon- 
dolas in Venice correspond to the 'buses in 
other places, the hotels do not have individual 
boats for their respective guests, as would be 
expected, but the passengers are left to look 
after themselves in this respect. This, of 
course, must be paid for as an extra, with the 
addition of a fee to the gondolier. I suppose 
this plan was adopted so that a few more Ital- 
ians may have an opportunity to haggle with 
the foreign tourists who flock to the city, and 
so extort a few more coins from the unsophis- 
ticated. Nothing seems to delight a certain 
class of Europeans more than opportunities 
of this kind. The little agent who acted as 
our guide tried to explain to us why he had to 
pay not only for the gondola but for a man to 
row it as well, but I confess I was not able to 
understand it all. I have been figuring on it 
ever since, and I am still in the dark, as I am 
in regard to several things which happened in 
Italy. 

130 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Everything in Venice was so new and 
strange and so different from anything else 
which we had seen that we were entirely ab- 
sorbed by the general effect, and many of the 
details escaped ns. It was quite a distance 
from the railway station to the hotel where 
we were to stop, and the ride in the gondola 
seems as I look back upon it like an enchanted 
one. Much of it was upon the "Grand Canal/' 
but part of the time w r e were winding in and 
out upon the smaller streets. 

To think that we were really in Venice, and 
riding in a gondola! The effect of the build- 
ings, when one is close to them, is not as bril- 
liant as represented in pictures of the city. 
It is evident that the stone buildings of which 
the city is composed w r ere at one time in their 
history painted in brilliant blues and reds, 
but time and weather have dimmed their 
brightness. As I have mentioned before, the 
afternoon was a warm one, and I was at- 
tracted by the large number of small boys 
w^ho were in swimming upon the streets. As 
their little heads bobbed in and out among 
the gondolas I was much exercised lest some 
of them should be struck by the boat and in- 
jured. But as no one else took any notice of 

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THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

them, I decided th&t my alarm* was out of 
place, and that they were probably quite able 
to take care of themselves. 

I wish I could reproduce upon paper the 
peculiar noise which the gondolier makes 
when he wants another boat to get out of his 
way. I would not care, however, to reproduce 
the sounds which he makes when the other 
boat does not do it. The language of the gon- 
doliers upon the canals of Venice is proverb- 
ial, and although they swore in Italian, we 
were conscious that they were living up to 
their record. Along some of the streets there 
were large boats drawn up for the transporta- 
tion of freight. I realized how queer it would 
seem to have everything in the city drawn 
around by boats. And then it came over me 
how still the city was in spite of the calling of 
the gondoliers! It almost reminded one of 
the country, without the rumble of a carriage 
wheel to be heard anywhere. Upon one street 
we saw a little fellow diving off from his front 
porch. It was quite amusing to me to think 
that when the small boys of Venice want to 
go in swimming all they have to do is to put 
on a bathing suit and go out and dive off the 
piazza. I knew some little boys at home who 



132 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

would want to move to Venice right away if 
they should hear about that. When we 
reached the hotel we found that its reputa- 
tion of being "English" was founded upo«n the 
fact that the young man who had met us at 
the station could speak our language rather 
haltingly. Every one else spoke Italian. After 
supper we went out for a stroll. Such an act 
might imply that we were endowed with the 
miraculous pow T er of walking upon the water, 
but such is not the case. It is not necessary 
to be able to walk upon the water in order to 
take a walk in Venice. While the front doors 
of all the buildings open upon the water, 
there is always a back door which opens upon 
a solid walk of cement. The "Rialto" is a 
wide, attractive and brilliantly lighted alley. 
After passing out of the door of the hotel and 
going through a dark and narrow passageway 
we found ourselves upon the "Kialto," being 
carried along with a perfect throng of people, 
some of whom seemed to be in a dreadful 
hurry, while others were taking the ordinary 
amount of time for their walk. The street 
was full, but did not seem uncomfortable, as 
those going one way kept upon one side, and 
those going the other way kept upon the 

133 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

other, in a most orderly and regular manner. 
But even though everything seemed to be or- 
derly, we remembered that we were in Italy, 
and almost unconsciously put our hands over 
our watches and felt for our purses. 

It is a natural instinct to feel for one's 
purse, even though you know there is not 
much in it. We walked in one direction until 
we were tired, stopping every few minutes, of 
course, to gaze into the shop windows, which 
were more brilliant than any we had seen. 
(We had not been in Paris then.) Then we 
joined the crowed on the other side of the 
street and walked back again, taking in the 
shops on that side of the street, Although we 
had never been in Venice before, and it was 
getting very late, there was no danger of los- 
ing our way, neither did we have to ask direc- 
tions from any one, for the crowd was all on 
that one street, and was constantly receiving 
additions from the small dark streets which 
ran into it. When we were back again at the 
opening of the little dark alley by which we 
had made our way from the hotel, it seemed 
darker than ever after the bright light ol the 
wider street. Dark alleys are not attractive 
anyw r here, and there was certainly nothing to 



134 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

make this one more so than the ordinary. But 
we had to go through it unless we wished to 
spend the night upon the street, and our 
weary bodies had long since been calling vig- 
orously for rest. So we hurried along and 
we still live to tell the story. I have neglected 
to speak of the warm welcome which was 
given us by those insects so popular in Italy, 
the fleas. I think they must have secured a 
special reunion of their relatives and friends 
to await our coming. Although there were 
screens of netting over the beds, these were 
not, sufficient to prevent the mosquitoes from 
adding their welcome to that of the others. 
These latter winged creatures evidently felt 
just as friendly, even though there were not as 
many of them to express themselves. The next 
day was Sunday, but we were obliged to con- 
sult the calendar to be sure of it, for there was 
nothing about the atmosphere of the place 
or the people to indicate the fact. All the 
stores were open, there was no indication of 
religious services anywhere, and things ap- 
peared to be going just as they usually did. 
We felt that a visit to the Art Gallery, which 
is one of the finest in Europe, would be the 
most proper thing under the circumstances. 

135 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

But we had no idea where it was, and we 
could not find the young man who was the 
only one about the hotel who spoke English. 
We started out and walked until we saw a 
sign in the window, "English Spoken Here." 
We went in and found it was a delightful lit- 
tle art store, presided over by two American 
girls. We were very thankful to meet real 
Americans. We asked the young ladies if 
they could direct us to the Art Gallery. It 
turned out to be a long waj^ and the direc- 
tions w^ere so many that we got mixed up 
about them. Finally we learned that the 
main objective point should be the "iron 
bridge," directly beyond which we should find 
the Gallery. We asked the Italian name for 
"iron bridge," and found that it was ' T ponto 
ferro," and with this we started upon our 
way. We walked on serenely as far as we 
could remember the directions. Then we saw 
a man coming who looked as if he were rea- 
sonably intelligent (we had let several pass 
who looked as if they were not), and ex- 
claimed "ponto ferro." He said it over after 
us several times, and then the light seemed 
to dawn upon his mind. I will digress a mo- 
ment to say that there is nothing more exas- 

136 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

perating than to have people of whom you ask 
directions, act as if there was no such place in 
the world. He began to talk very loud and 
very fast, gesticulating in all directions at 
the same time. Then he bowed and smiled 
most politely and — passed on. He left us 
fully as well informed as we were before we 
spoke to him. After trying one or two others 
with about the same success, we fell back on 
our original directions, and selecting a street 
which we thought might possibly be the right 
one we went on our way, wondering why 
those stupid Italians did not learn to talk 
English. Well, much to our relief, "ponto 
ferro" soon came into view, and beyond it the 
Art Gallery was clearly in evidence. The 
bridge itself is a fine structure, and we felt 
glad to have seen it for its own sake. We 
• found that the art gallery did not open until 
ten o'clock, and as it still lacked a few min- 
utes of that time, we sat down on the porch 
to wait. We noticed with surprise that there 
were a large number of men standing about 
the clcor, some of them talking in an excited 
manner. When we heard the clocks striking 
ten we went to the door again, only to find 
it closed still. I do not remember now how 



137 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

we received the disappointing information 
that it was "election day," and for that reason 
the gallery and a number of other interesting 
building's would be closed for the day. We 
were annoyed exceedingly that we had used 
so much time in the pursuit of this building 
when there were so many things which w r e 
should not have time to see. But those with 
whom we tried to remonstrate upon the sub- 
ject remained quite unmoved. They seemed 
to indicate that it was our fault if we did not 
know that elections in Venice were always 
held on Sunday, as well as the fact that it was 
that particular Sunday when they were to oc- 
cur. As we had planned to leave the city that 
evening, and all of the remaining days were 
already planned for, we were obliged to re- 
sign ourselves to letting that particular art 
gallery go- unseen until the next time we 
should happen to be along that way. We 
made the most of our walk, however, enjoying 
the sights which lay along the way. 



138 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

PIAZZA OF ST. MARK'S. THE BRIDGE OP SIGHS. 
THE OLD BELL TOWER. 

JJpon the previous evening we had secured 
a glimpse of the famous "Piazza of St. 
Mark's" by gas light. As this is one of the 
most interesting and important localities of 
Venice we returned to it again. We spent the 
next few hours in examining the many his- 
toric buildings and scenes which center about 
it. The locality referred to is a large open 
square, paved for the most part with solid 
marble, no longer white, but long since 
grown gray with age and use. It is partly 
surrounded by shops of different kinds, while 
the City Hall, St. Mark's Cathedral, and the 
Doge's Palace occupy prominent positions. 
It opens upon the water, where we found a 
beautifully kept wharf filled with boats and 
sailing crafts of every description. Upon the 
previous evening there had been a band stand 
in the center. This was surrounded by board 



139 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

seats which were crowded with women hold- 
ing dirty babies. But upon our return to it 
in the morning we found it entirely empty 
and deserted except by the rays of the sun, 
which poured down such an intensity of heat 
as to almost blister the feet of the pedestrians 
who were bold enough to cross it at that time, 
among which number we found ourselves. 
We sought the interior of the cathedral, and 
found it an immense relief from the burning 
heat. Its exterior corresponds very perfectly 
with the many pictures which abound, with 
the exception that the colors are much 
dimmed, and in many places peeled and 
chipped off. It is claimed that the actual 
bones of St. Mark, the patron saint of the city, 
are preserved here. But no bones were on ex- 
hibition, so that our credulity was not put to 
the test. 

The wide doors of the cathedral were open, 
as they are in all of the churches of that 
country, and the opening was covered by a 
heavy double curtain. The interior was cur- 
ious. We examined the floor first. It is a 
series of fine mosaics, but rough and uneven 
as if the stones, laid directly upon the ground, 
had yielded to the pressure of the many hun- 

X40 






THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

dreds of feet which have passed over them 
since they were first laid there. The central 
part which we entered first was almost entirely 
empty. The only seats visible were some cir- 
cular ones about the pillars. Upon one of 
these there was seated a weary looking Vene- 
tian woman nursing her baby. She was evi- 
dently returning from a long walk, as her 
market basket was standing by her side, and 
her clothes appeared dusty and worn. I felt 
as I looked at her, as I did with much inter- 
est, that this church was proving a sanctuary 
in the true sense of the word. In other places 
were tourists like ourselves, studying the 
guide books. We were thankful that the 
guide books were always red, for though we 
never saw these people again, we passed on 
with a thrill of sympathy, similar to that ex- 
pressed by the "Philistine," only in this case 
it was "Ships that pass in the morning." 

There were all kinds of alcoves and apart- 
ments in different places filled with statuary, 
incense bowls and different things, unlike any 
thing which I had seen before, and the names 
of which were unfamiliar to us. We discov- 
ered that there was something going on in 
one of the alcoves, for it was crowded with 



141 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

people, and the sound of chanting and the 
odor of incense floated over their heads. We 
edged our way through the crowd (they were 
all standing) until we were near enough the 
altar to see what was taking place. There 
was a separate altar in each one of the al- 
coves. We found that a funeral was being 
held. The casket was upon the inside of the 
railing, and two* priests in rich robes were 
swinging the incense and chanting the dirge. 
There were evidently a few people n^ar the 
altar who were friends of the deceased and 
were mourning his (or her) loss. But most of 
them seemed simply spectators. A further 
tour of the church disclosed a ceiling of 
rounded domes ornamented with stiff gilded 
figures, after the manner of Byzantine decora- 
tion. As we left the shadow of St. Mark's 
for the glare of the Italian sunshine my most 
clearly defined impression was of the years — 
years — years which had passed since time be- 
gan to be. 

Of course the "Bridge of Sighs" is as in- 
teresting as anything which is to be seen in 
Venice. A short walk from the Piazza of St. 
Mark's brought us to the place where we 
could see it. The bridge leads from the 



142 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

"Doge's Palace/' where the prisoners were 
tried, to the prison beyond where are the 
famous and awful "Dungeons of the Inquisi- 
tions." It looks just as the pictures of it do, 
except, as has been said about the other 
buildings, the colors are dull and dim. The 
water alone, which filled the narrow space 
between the two buildings, was the only 
thing which retained its original brightness 
of color. It was not difficult to be thrilled, 
as we gazed upon this bridge, and this water, 
and the Avhole scene which was the last to be 
looked upon by many a poor wretch in days 
gone by. 

The Doge's Palace, like the Art Gallery, 
was closed on account of the election, so we 
were obliged to content ourselves with an in- 
spection of the exterior, and' the walk through 
the large quadrangle and porch which runs 
around it. The building is large but not high, 
and is surrounded by rows of dingy gray 
marble pillars. We mourned the loss of the 
view of the fine pictures and rooms which we 
had read were upon the inside of the build- 
ing, but still felt that if we could not see 
those there were plenty of other things to fill 
up on, and proceeded to look at them with 



143 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

as much energy as possible. We first sought 
the famous "Rialto Square," where the Mer- 
chant of Venice made his unhappy bargain. 
We walked for a long distance on the street 
called by this name, across a long and massive 
bridge similarly named, from which we de- 
scended upon an opening paved with stone 
and surrounded by booths w^here there were 
offered for sale all manner of vegetables, 
fruits and flowers. The little church referred 
to by Shakespeare is also there, but so dilap- « 
idated and decayed that it is not allowed to 
be used as a place of worship. There seemed 
to be families with large numbers of untidy 
children living in some portions of it. If I 
refer in an unduly large number of cases to 
the dirty and untidy children which we saw 
in Italy I must excuse myself by explaining 
that I was greatly impressed by them. I do 
not believe there are as many neglected look- 
ing children in the whole of the United States 
as we saw during our short sojourn in Italy. 
And there was certainly no excuse for it in 
Venice, where water was so much more 
abundant than soil. As we strolled about the 
Rialto, we scanned the faces of the passers 
by to see if we could discover anyone who 



144 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

might be a descendant of the revengeful Shy- 
lock, or if perchance some young Antonio 
might be going that way. If we failed in this 
respect we at least saw a great number of 
other persons as well as things which were 
of decided interest to us. We returned to the 
"Piazza" and reached there just in time to 
see them feeding the doves. I have heard 
different stories about how this great army of 
doves came to infest the city of Venice, and to 
swoop dow r n upon this particular spot to be 
fed. All kinds of people were feeding them, 
some with corn, some with bread crumbs, and 
little children were scattering table scraps 
from plates. Many of the doves were quite 
tame, and approached us quite as eagerly as 
if we had been old inhabitants of the place. 
Our attention was now called to the pecu- 
liar manner in which some figures upon the 
top of the City Hall were accustomed to strike 
the hours. In the center of the group was a 
large bronze bell. The figures of a man and 
a woman stood upon opposite sides of the 
bell, each one of them holding a large bronze 
hammer. As it was just upon the stroke of 
eleven we waited to see what would happen. 
All at once the man raised his hammer and 



145 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

struck the bell eleven times in succession. 
After the man had ceased to strike we were 
about to move away to other sights, when an 
Italian man who had been watching us began 
to gesticulate violently and point to the fig- 
ures again. We thought he was asking for 
money, and still insisted on going, when all 
at once the woman raised her hammer and 
began to strike the bell in the same measured 
tones. After that there was the "Campanile," 
that great bell tower which is known all over 
Europe. It occupies a prominent position on 
the Piazza, and is open to anyone who wishes 
to climb to its top. We had climbed to the 
top of everything there was so far, so we paid 
the fee to the woman at the door and began 
the ascent. There were no steps, but a grad- 
ual circular ascent. The path wound round 
and round the center, and it was not so diffi- 
cult as the climbing of stairs. The only dis- 
agreeable sensation was one of dizziness if 
we went too fast. The view from the top well 
repaid the work of climbing, even though the 
day was hot. We could see Venice as it really 
was. Water all around both near and far. 
It suggested to me how one of our western 
cities looked when overtaken by a flood, only 

146 



The story of a European toun. 

here everything was calm and peaceful and 
blue. The water was blue below and the sky 
was blue above, and the sun shining over all 
made a beautiful picture. A refreshing 
breeze bleAv across the open space where we 
stood, and we were near enough the great 
bell to touch it. It was with real reluctance 
that we took our last look upon Venice from 
the top of the Campanile and descended again 
by the circular path not exactly to "terra 
Anna" but to what corresponded to that term 
in this unique city. After this we were lured 
into the Venetian glass factory by an enter- 
prising runner for the same, who was on the 
lookout for victims. The exhibit was very in- 
teresting and tempting, but the prices were 
high and the articles were very frail, so we 
refrained from making any purchases in spite 
of the urgency of the attendant. We were, 
however, presented with a large glass bead, 
which had been made in our presence and 
upon which our initials had been placed. 
After we had received the bead we were in 
the embarrassing position of not knowing 
what to do with it. We felt that we ought 
to take it home as a souvenir, but it seemed 
so frail that we had no idea where to put it 

147 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

in the very small luggage space which we had 
allowed ourselves for the trip. We finally 
packed it away in a box with some other 
trinkets, and worried about it for the rest of 
the journey. It was tougher than we thought, 
for when we reached home the precious bead 
was intact. It was kept on exhibition in the 
parlor for several weeks but has since dis- 
appeared, no one knows where. It will prob- 
ably turn up when house cleaning comes 
around. As we were packing up to leave 
Venice I pondered upon the uniqueness of 
many of the conditions here. One may be 
born, live and die there and never see either 
a horse or a cow. The inhabitants of this 
water city may spend a lifetime without ever 
stepping foot upon mother earth. I had a 
feeling that this failing to come in contact 
with the ground was what gave the people, 
especially the real old people, such u peculiar 
appearance. The color of the skin was a 
queer kind of gray, the eyes were dull and 
sunken. The hair seemed dry and hard, the 
bodies thin and emaciated. Their general 
appearance was that of bent and dilapidated 
chalk figures, prowling around as if moved 
by machinery. I have a firm and comfortable 

148 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

conviction that that there are no people in the 
whole extent of the United States who look 
as did those old men and women whom we 
saw wandering about the streets of Venice. 
And if there were any here they would be 
properly cared for and not turned loose bare 
headed and bare footed upon the public 
highways. 



149 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE DELIGHTS OF A VISIT TO FLORENCE. HOW WE 
REACHED THE CITY. 

It was just half-past two in the afternoon 
when we took the train from Venice to Flor- 
ence. No matter what else I may forget I will 
never forget that afternoon journey. I am 
sure that I should be excused from all charge 
of using slang when I declare in the first place 
that it was "hot." The fact of the matter 
really is that the word expresses but feebly 
the real state of the atmosphere and the sur- 
rounding conditions. No one who was not 
there can have any idea how hot it was. Al- 
though we were at the station nearly an hour 
before train time, we were so unfortunate as 
to get the sunny side of the car. Think of it! 
The sunny side of the car for all the long slow 
hours of an Italian afternoon. The style of 
the cars in Europe makes traveling there 
much less comfortable than in our country, 
and this difference is especially noticeable in 
hot w r eather. Each car being divided into 

150 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

narrow compartments renders it impossible 
to get the benefit of any breeze. The compart- 
ment in which we were seated was packed 
full of Italians. To be sure they were very 
respectable and kind hearted Italians, but we 
were now far enough south so that the people 
with whom we came in contact bore all the 
peculiar characteristics of the country. The 
heat from the outside was made more uncom- 
fortable by the presence of so many heated 
persons within. They took off their coats and 
collars. We hastened to do the same. (When 
you are in Eome you must do as the Eomans 
do.) They got off at the stations and bought 
bottles of red wine and baskets of green 
gooseberries, (But here we did not apply the 
rule.) These they hospitably offered to us, 
but we shook our heads in polite refusal. It 
was not because we considered the refresh- 
ments inappropriate to the occasion that we 
refused, but because we felt delicate about 
accepting favors which we could not return. 
"And when," thought we, "could, this com- 
pany of people ever be treated to red wine 
and green gooseberries at our expense?" 

The train stopped fifty-five minutes in the 
city of Bologne. I confess that the name was 

151 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

associated in my mind with the sansage 
which is so popular with a certain class in our 
country. But a short stroll in the vicinity of 
the station revealed nothing which suggested 
the usual horseshoe adornments of the butch- 
er's windows. The town appeared similar to 
the other towns in that country. Well ! All 
things on this earth must have an end, and so 
the hour did finally come when the ,sun with- 
drew the fierceness of his rays from our side 
of the car, our drooping minds and bodies re- 
vived, and life again seemed worth living. 
There were some beautiful twilight hours 
which compensated in some measure for the 
discomforts of the afternoon. Before leaving 
Venice we had been given the card of a cer- 
tain "Pension" in Florence. From the recom- 
mendations received we had decided to go 
there. But when we reached Florence-and 
alighted from the train we found ourselves \ / 
among a seething swarm of Italians, porters y 
and hoodlums who could not understand a 
word we said, but only knew that they 
wanted to get hold of our grip-sacks. It 
would have been much the most sensible 
course to abandon our original plan and go to 
the nearest hotel. I cannot now explain how 

152 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

it happened, but some way in trying to get 
away from the crowd of importunate assist- 
ants w T e found ourselves out in the darkness 
of the unknown city, fairly set upon by an 
army of them. No one knew about the "Pen- 
sion" we spoke about, and from our actions 
we must have thought that we would be 
miraculously guided to it. As we passed 
through some gates just off from the station, 
we were literally pounced upon by a person 
who had not appeared before and almost 
dragged into an adjacent building. This man 
and all of his assistants were talking loudly 
all the time and gesticulating fiercely, but 
Ave were none the wiser for that. I remember 
that my husband exclaimed, "Take your 
hands off of me," but they only gripped him 
the tighter, and I followed meekly along after 
him. He was furious at being pulled about 
in this fashion, but I w T as beginning to be 
scared. I remembered that we were in Italy 
and that it was night, and our friends were 
far away across the ocean. A wild vision of 
dungeons and tortures flashed through my 
mind. The little fat Italian before whom we 
were taken was not quite so fierce as the rest 
had been, and seemed to appreciate our em- 

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THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

barrassment. After much talking and gestic- 
ulating we at last discovered that what they 
wanted was to examine our baggage and to 
see if we were carrying any prohibited arti- 
cles. Our valises were accordingly opened, 
examined and closed, and we went o'ut into 
the darkness again, temporarily relieved. 
We walked on for some time without suc- 
cess. Finally we were fortunate enough to 
meet a man who although he could not talk 
English seemed to understand what was said. 
A passing boy was hailed, our baggage was 
given into his hands and we were soon breath- 
lessly pursuing him. We could tell but little 
about where we were going on account of the 
darkness, and I confess that I was fearful 
that everything was not all right. But there 
was nothing else to be done then, as the boy 
had our belongings. At -last he stopped in 
front of a large bare stone building and rang 
the bell. After a long period of waiting the 
door was slowly opened just wide enough to 
admit the card which we were carrying from 
the people in Venice. When the card had 
been fully inspected we were admitted 1 and 
the boy dismissed. Then, oh joy! Oh, rap- 
ture! The young handmaiden who opened 

154 






THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the door could speak English! So our 
troubles were ended for that night. The com- 
ing of the morning revealed the fact that we 
were in a most delightful Italian boarding 
house. The lady in charge could also speak 
English. She was not Italian, but Hungar- 
ian, and as she seemed sympathetic we un- 
burdened to her some of our trials and also 
our unbiased opinion of the Italians in gen- 
eral. 

"I suppose/' I explained, "that it is because 
we do not understand their language that 
they seem so stupid to us." 

"Oh, no," she replied. "It is not that at 
all. It is because they are stupid. I under- 
stand their language perfectly and I often 
find it impossible to make them comprehend 
what I mean." 

While wandering through the large halls, 
balconies and grounds of the "Pension" we 
learned that we were in the home formerly 
occupied by the author, Anthony Trollope, 
and where he wrote many of his books. The 
establishment continued to bear the name 
which it had received in his honor, "The Pen- 
sion de Trollope." To live in such a delight- 
ful place would certainly be an inspiration in 



155 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

itself. As we started out the next morning 
for an exploration of the art treasures of this 
wonderful city we traced with interest our 
route of the night before. 

The memories which cluster around our 
brief stay in Florence are among the most 
distinct and the most delightful of the trip. 
Still, there is no part which I feel so incapable 
of describing. There was so much to see and 
so little time in which to see it. We made a 
herculean effort and grasped all we could. 
Although threatened at the time with mental 
and physical prostration, I am truly thankful 
for the energy which we were able to put 
forth at that time. I had read so much and 
dreamed so often of Florence that I was over- 
awed by the mere thought of being there, be- 
fore I had seen a single one of the historic 
buildings or wonderful art treasures with 
which the city abounds. The delights and 
triumphs of the visit served to obliterate all 
uncomfortable memories of preceding events. 

One of our American essayists declares 
"There is no modern city about which cluster 
so many elevating associations, none in which 
the past is so contemporary with us in un- 
changed buildings and unchanged monu- 

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I 



THE STORY OF A ECROPEAN TOUR. 

ments, and the great triumvirate of Italian 
poetry, good sense and culture called her 
mother." And yet, though we know that Flor- 
ence was the "cradle of the renaissance," as 
well as a "beacon light of history," we could 
not forget about Savonarola, his dreadful 
torture and cruel death, and all the other 
painful things which have happened there. 
Florence! In whose book have been written 
some of the darkest as well as some of the 
brightest pages of human history. 

When we think of the long centuries it has 
taken to make it we feel that a life time would 
be too short a time in which to study it. It 
is not difficult to realize what Dante must 
have suffered during his years of exile from it. 
Neither do we wonder that the Brownings 
found their home there so delightful, nor that 
Mrs. Browning w T as willing to have this her 
last resting place, though now so widely sepa- 
rated from that of her illustrious husband 
who rests in Westminster Abbey. Just to be 
in Florence and to think over the past was a 
memorable experience. What we were able 
to see will stand out clearly as a reminder 
that "when we go again" we will plan to have 
time enough to see these all over again and 



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THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUfi. 

many others as well. Our rendezvous for the 
day was the well known "Piazza della Sig- 
noria," The 'buses from all over the city meet 
there, and one finds many beautiful things to 
enjoy while he may be waiting. The 'bus line 
ran by the door of the "Pension de Trollope," 
and we soon found ourselves rolling along 
streets and past buildings which were asso- 
ciated with the most important historical 
events. Alighting in the square just men- 
tioned the first thing to attract my attention 
was the building which we decided must be 
the famous "Loggia de Lanzi." It is really not 
a building at all in the sense in which that 
word is ordinarily used, but a very deep and 
wide porch. From the American standpoint, 
there was no use for it at all, for the use to 
which it was put was not practical. It was 
at that particular time serving as a retreat 
for those two types, so constantly found side 
by side in Italy, and yet contrasting so vivid- 
ly: masterpieces of Italian art and unwashed 
Italian idlers. It detracted decidedly from 
my enjoyment of the statuary to see the steps 
which ran across the back of the porch filled 
with the individuals referred to lying around 
in various postures sound asleep. 

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THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Our faithful guide book, to which we invar- 
iably turned when there was any puzzling 
question to be settled, failed us entirely at 
this point, so we had to pass on, not knowing 
who these sleeping men were, or why they 
were there. But as I said before, this com- 
bination of superior art and inferior human- 
ity, was one which we became more familiar 
with before our stay in Italy was over. My 
thoughts ran back to some of the art galleries 
which I had visited in our American cities, 
notably New York and Washington. And 
although admission to these places is entirely 
without expense, it is utterly impossible for 
me to imagine how it would seem to see 
ragged men with pipes falling out of their 
mouths lying about upon the seats. I am 
aware that a description of Florence would 
be more pleasant, which left out all these dis- 
agreeable details, and only spoke of the beau- 
tiful things. But a chronicle of impressions 
cannot rightfully do so. I was glad to learn 
as I did later that the beautiful "Loggia" was 
originally built as a gathering place for the 
citizens, who met there to discuss the public 
affairs of Florence. If, as some people claim, 
beauty is synonymous with right, the govern- 

159 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

merit of Florence must have been well car- 
ried on when the plans for it were laid in so 
beautiful a place. I learned that this build- 
ing or portico had been standing for over 
five centuries, and probably some of the stat- 
uary has been there for an equal length of 
time. In spite of its weather worn appear- 
ance, it is very beautiful. It was within this 
square that Savonarola was tortured and 
burned, but Ave were not able to learn 
whether any of the fountains or statues which 
abounded marked the exact spot of the trag- 
edy. 

The most conspicuous group of statuary 
was that of Hercules and Oacus, by the fa- 
mous sculptor Bandinelli. There was also a 
fountain with a figure by Veroechio>, and I re- 
member that we lingered for some time at 
the base of these two particular pieces of art, 
talking of Savonarola and the circumstances 
which were called to mind by his name. As 
our sightseeing in this locality continued we 
learned how thoroughly many of its scenes 
were associated with the name of this noted 
reformer. For we next turned our steps to 
the "Palazza Vecchio," which was the old cap- 
itol of the republic, and afterwards the home 

160 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

of the Medici family. It is described as an 
example of the Florentine castle of the mid- 
dle ages, and within its old and weather 
stained walls have transpired many of the 
most important events of Florentine history. 
A lofty tower rises far above the main build- 
ing. It was within a chamber in this tower 
that Savonarola was imprisoned and from 
which he w r as taken to his death. But of all 
the things connected with the "old palace" 
my mind turns the most frequently and the 
most distinctly to the wonderful statue of 
Savonarola by Passaglio, which stands in an 
elevated position at one end of the long apart- 
ment now called the "Hall." The apartment 
is entirely empty, but it does not seem so, for 
the spirit and presence of the great man who 
presides over it by day and by night seems 
to pervade it. The statue is colossal. The 
monk stands there in the robes of his order, 
wearing upon his head the conventional hood. 
His left hand rests upon the head of a lion, 
while in his right he holds a crucifix on high. 
The head is slightly bent forward, and such 
a look of intensity as is fixed upon those stern 
features and gleams out of those marble eyes 
I have never before or since seen impressed 

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THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

upon inanimate stone. The lips are parted as 
if in speech, and one can almost hear those 
burning words which were ringing through 
Florence during the life time of the man. As 
we lingered in this room, loath to remove our 
eyes from the statue, we came to realize for 
ourselves something of the power which art 
is able to gain over the human heart. 



162 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

RARE PLEASURE AMONG THE GREAT MASTERPIECES 
OF ART. 

After the "Palazza VeccHio" the traveler 
quite naturally turns his steps to the threshold 
of the "Uffizi Gallery," whith also opens upon 
the "Piazza della Signoria." This gallery was 
founded by the Medici, and contains one of 
the largest and rarest collections of art in the 
world. It has been said that in order to get 
the most good out of an inspection of an art 
gallery one should look at the pictures for 
a while and then repair to the outer air for a 
season, then return for a brief period, and so 
on. This is an excellent plan, and would no 
doubt do well for those who have an unlim- 
ited number of francs and an unlimited 
amount of time at their disposal. But Ave 
were obliged to adapt ourselves to our own 
circumstances, which did not in all respects 
correspond to the ideal ones just stated. 

As my mind returns to that vast maze of 
halls, passages and alcoves, I am impressed 



163 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

with the belief that it is impossible for any 
one to describe them in such a way as to give 
a definite idea of the arrangement to a per- 
son who has not been there. I remember the 
"Mobe" room. This was easy to do, because 
there was nothing in it except groups of stat- 
uary, single statues and parts of statues of 
Niobe and her children. It makes a peculiar 
impression to see so many representations of 
the same thing in # one place. There are mas- 
terpieces of great interest and importance 
throughout the entire building, but I might 
as well come at once to the "Tribune," which 
has been called the "Holy of Holies" of this 
holy place. This is an octagonal apartment 
of not unusual size. The most precious treas- 
ures of all the gallery have been gathered 
there, and it has been said that no room of 
a similar size in all the world contains so 
many masterpieces as does this one. The 
room itself is most beautifully decorated, and 
the material in its walls is worth many thou- 
sands of dollars. We decided that our wisest 
course would be to stay right here and try to 
get something of a lasting impression of what 
was in this room rather than spread out over 
the entire building, and see so much that we 



164 






THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

could remember nothing. It is probably on 
this account that I retain a better idea of it 
than of any other collection visited. Prob- 
ably the "Venus de Medici" is the most noted 
of anything there. It is not because I en- 
joyed it most that I mention it first. Possibly 
I was disappointed because it was so small. 
A person who is still a novice in art is no 
doubt apt to appreciate the magnificent and 
grand before he does the subtle and delicate. 
I looked at the "Venus" as long as I felt it my 
duty to do so, reviewed in my mind its re- 
markable history, tried to realize how for- 
tunate I was to be able to' see the original of 
this piece of statuary of which so many copies 
both in marble and in print abound, and then 
turned to the contemplation of other things 
from which I was able to derive more real en- 
joyment. The "Dancing Faun" and espe- 
cially the "Wrestlers" attracted me. But 
after all, it was the paintings in the "Tri- 
bune" which drew me back again and again. 
There was "La Fornerina," by Raphael. We 
were now getting to the best of Raphael's pic- 
tures. As I studied that soft flesh tint, and 
looked into those sad eyes, I wondered why 
nature had given but one Raphael to the 



165 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

world. Why cannot other people paint in 
that way? When I realized how much it 
meant to me to see these things I felt sorry for 
the hosts of others who would never be able to 
do so. Or, if painters of this rank were more 
numerous would their paintings give less 
pleasure? You can fairly feel the warmth 
of that delicate hand as you look at it, and 
the robe about the shoulders is of such mar- 
velous beauty. 

The strong, young face of "St. John in the 
Desert" was near by, and the "Madonna clella 
Cardellino" with her two little boys by her 
side was wonderfully sweet. These were all 
by Raphael. There was the "Virgin Adoring 
Her Child," in which the child lies upon the 
ground and the mother bends gracefully over 
it. This last picture is Correggio's. The 
paintings of Michael Angelo which are found 
in this room did not attract me. They seemed 
stiff and stern beside the softness of Raphael. 
I inspected them carefully and conscientious- 
ly on account of the greatness of the artist. 
There w r ere the "Nativity" and a "Holy Fam- 
ily" by Angelo, and others which I do not re- 
call so distinctly. There was that sweet up- 
turned face which Carlo Dulci has painted, 

166 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

known as "Santa Lucia," There was the "An- 
nunciation" by Da Vinci, and world re- 
nowned pictures by Titian and Kubens, Tin- 
toretto and others. I remember that when 
we went into the "TJffizi Gallery" we were 
told that we went directly from this into the 
gallery of the "Pitti Palace." But I saw after- 
wards that I had not at all appreciated what 
this meant, for the "Pitti Palace" is on the 
other side of the Kiver Arno. When I had 
exhausted the time allotted for the inspection 
of the former gallery I found my way back 
to the door leading to the latter one, passed 
into a narrow dimly lighted passageway, and 
proceeded to walk on and on for some time. 
My husband at this point decided that he had 
seen pictures enough, and so I was left to con- 
tinue the inspection alone. I remember that 
I was the only person in the passageway, and 
that I could only see a short distance before 
and behind me. I felt very lonesome and 
funny, but even then did not realize that I 
was crossing the second story of a bridge, viz: 
the "Ponte Vecchio," the oldest of the six 
bridges which crosses the Arno. Every inch 
of the wall was covered with paintings, and 
I wondered and wondered why they had built 



167 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

an art gallery in that shape, and hung fine 
pictures where the light was so poor that no 
one could see them. Afterwards I enjoyed a 
good laugh at my own simplicity, but com- 
forted myself with the thought that I had 
learned something that morning. The pic- 
tures upon the walls of the bridge are mostly 
of kings and queens. I remember just two of 
them. And these I recall on account of my 
previous associations with their person- 
ality, rather than on account of the 
beauty or excellence of the painting. They 
were the faces of Catherine de Medici and 
Oliver Cromwell. The square white forehead 
which rose with so much dignity above the 
wide white ruff about the neck of Catherine 
de Medici seemed to suit the eyes, which would 
not have looked wicked to me if I had not 
known the story of her life. I lingered before 
the strong face of Cromwell, with its long 
hair and dark eyes, because he is one of my 
favorites among all of England's great men. 
When a few moments later I emerged into 
the "Pitti Gallery"itself, I found that there 
was a "Holy of the Holies" there also. This 
was the room where hung the picture which 
was the most beautiful of anv which I had 



168 



THE ST(5RY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

seen up to that time, ranking next, as it se^ms 
to me, to the famous "Sistine." I refer to the 
"Madonna della Sedia"of Raphael. An Ameri- 
can girl with whom I fell into conversation 
in this room said that there were more single 
masterpieces in this room than in any other 
room in the world. This seemed to me to dis- 
credit what had been asserted of the "Tri- 
bune" in the gallery just left, but one is at 
liberty to take his choice in the matter. But 
I have since heard it said in reference to this 
room that if all the other art galleries in the 
world should be wiped out but this, the world 
would still be rich in art. But, as compara- 
tively few of the art lovers of the world are 
able to get a peep into this remarkable room, I 
am very grateful that the other art galleries 
are not wiped out. I remember most distinctly 
"Cleopatra," by Guido Beni, a "Sacred Fam- 
ily," by Raphael, and a "Virgin and Child," 
by Murillo. I recognized the soft pinks and 
blues which I had seen in the copies of this 
artist and also the soft light which the copies 
do not really show, but only suggest. A 
•"Magdalene," by Titian, haunted me for a 
long time. 

While standing before the wonderful "Ma- 
donna della Sedia" I was suddenly seized 

169 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

with an intense desire to possess it. I was 
surprised in this feeling, for we had by this 
time seen a number of the world's most 
famous pictures, and I had experienced no 
similar sensation in regard to them. I had 
been thankful for the opportunity of seeing 
them, but was quite reconciled to leaving 
them where they were. This "Madonna" it- 
self is small, not too large for the walls of the 
average private house, and its beauty is en- 
hanced by the magnificent gold frame in 
which it is placed. It is fixed upon hinges 
like a door so that it may be moved back and 
forth and thus brought into the best possible 
light. As I stood there it seemed as if my 
life would be infinitely happier if I could look 
at that picture (not a copy of it) the last thing 
before retiring at night, and if when I wak- 
ened during the dark hours I could feel that it 
was near me. Before leaving the gallery I dis- 
covered a small room packed full of copies of 
this and other masterpieces to be found in 
the different halls. Many of these have been 
done by celebrated modern artists and are 
for sale. 

I made the mental declaration that when I 
again visited the "Pitti Gallery" I should be 

170 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

prepared both from the artistic and financial 
standpoint to bring away the best copy of the 
"Madonna della Sedia" which I could find. 

I was always extremely interested in the 
people whom Ave found copying the pictures 
in these galleries. I imagined that they all 
had histories of their own, and no doubt some 
of them were the great artists of the future. 
T observed that they were invariably sensi- 
tive about having visitors look at their work. 
I confess that I usually took a sly peep when 
the painter in question was not looking. It 
was very interesting to compare the copy 
with the original. 

As I passed out of the gallery I was allured 
into a most attractive little picture store, 
where were offered for sale copies in black 
and white of all the beautiful things which 
I had been seeing. Of course I invested, 
thinking thus to carry away a more lasting 
impression of what I had seen. But when I 
came to look at these copies in the quiet of 
our room I was sorry I had them, because 
they fell so far short of my then fresh recol- 
lection of the originals. After luncheon I 
made an inventory of the things which I 
wanted to see before night. 



171 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

First and foremost upon the list I placed 
Michael Angelo's statue of "David" and the 
church of "San Lorenzo." This church had 
been an interesting spot to me ever since I 
knew it contained the tombs of the Medici 
adorned by the statues of "Day and Mght" 
and "Morning and Evening," executed by An- 
gelo. I learned that the "David" stood for 
a great many years in the open space in front 
of the "Palazzo Vecchio." But partly, no 
doubt because the elements were beginning 
to tell upon it, and partly because there was 
an opportunity to turn an honest penny, it 
has now been removed to a building known 
as the "Academy of Fine Arts." Here it 
stands, most advantageously placed in the 
center of a large hall which is lighted from 
the top. It is the wonder and delight of all who 
visit it. I cannot describe the statue or the 
feeling which overcame me when my eyes first 
rested upon it. Pictures of it abound, 
and I had seen a number of them, 
but this is one of the things which 
cannot be shown in a picture. The 
statue represents a young man, and is 
much more than life size. As I looked at it, 
elevated upon its pedestal, it suddenly came 

172 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

to embody for me all that was grand, sym- 
metrical, perfect in the human form. Very 
seldom in my life have I had the experience 
of seeing anything which seemed to me per- 
fect. For a few brief seconds I felt as if all 
of my previous life had been lived as a prepa- 
ration for this one experience. I had never 
known before that intensity of pleasure 
aroused by the recognition of perfection. I 
looked through the rest of the gallery, but the 
paintings did not interest me. They were by 
Cimebue, Fra Angelico and other early mas- 
ters, and from the historical standpoint were 
no doubt of great importance. But the con- 
ventional still hands folded closely over the 
stiff breasts, and the faded hair combed back 
from the stiff brows, failed to arouse even the 
semblance of a thrill. I went back and sat 
down where I could get the best possible view 
of my David, for it was mine from now 
on, and sat there until the custodian of the 
building came to tell me it was time to close. 
I then started in search of the Church of 
San Lorenzo, which according to my direc- 
tions was but a few blocks from here. I soon 
came to what I learned afterwards was the 
rear portion of it. But it was built up so 

173 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



solidly that I could not get to the front of 
it without going around several blocks, and 
in doing this I lost my way. I tried to ask 
directions from the people whom I met upon 
the street, but with poor success. I de- 
manded "Duomo San Lorenzo" and was di- 
rected to half a dozen different churches, all 
of which when I reached them proved to be 
ordinary cathedrals, about which I cared 
nothing. I nearly gave up in despair several 
times, and surely would have done so but for 
the fact that I had looked forward to seeing 
this particular church during the entire 
journey. At one place a beautiful little Ital- 
ian boy was delegated to pilot me to the de- 
sired spot. Dear little fellow! I can still see 
the look of disappointment which clouded 
those large brown eyes when I scolded him 
because he had taken me to the wrong church. 
But I was getting desperate thinking of all 
the time I was losing. At last I found myself 
in front of the long sought edifice. I 
tried the door, and my heart sank with- 
in me when I discovered that it was 
loeked. A man driving past in a wagon, 
seeing my evident distress, rattled off a 
lot of words in Italian and held up four 



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THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

fingers. I had no idea what he meant, 
and just then it occurred to me to look in my 
guide book. Alas! I understood it all, but it 
was too late. The church closed at four 
o'clock and it was now after five. How true 
is the old adage, "What the head does not do, 
the feet must." Well, there was still time to 
see "Giotto's Tower," which is one of the most 
beautiful in Italy; some declare it to be the 
most beautiful. 

Then there was the "Baptistry" contain- 
ing the celebrated bronze doors of Ghiberti, 
and the cathedral opposite to it, which is 
really one of the most important buildings in 
Florence. The cathedral did not impress me. 
Perhaps this was because I was too near it. 
But there was not time to seek a spot from 
which I might see it in all its magnificent 
proportions. I think many travelers experi- 
ence this difficulty in seeing the fine buildings 
of Europe. You naturally go to them at once, 
but when you are there you can see nothing 
but the door. Sometimes you can obtain a 
better view of how they look from a picture. 
It took Ghiberti forty years to make these 
bronze doors. They are covered with biblical 
scenes in bronze relief. They are wonderful, 



175 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

but I was not able to see the beauty in them 
which others have seen. 

And that evening we left Florence. As the 
train rolled away in the darkness my soul 
cried out within me to think of the beautiful 
things which we were leaving. But most of 
all I wanted to go back again and look at 
the "Madonna della Sedia." 

As I dozed away during the long hours of 
the night I seemed to be wandering in shady 
groves, such as we saw upon the banks of the 
Ehine. All around under the trees were 
standing statues of David, and sweet Ma- 
donna faces were looking down at me from 
among the branches. Perfect nature, and per- 
fect art! They speak to us with voices that 
are more than human if we only have ears to 
hear. 



176 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

REACH THE ETERNAL CITY. ST. PETER'S. 

"All roads lead to Rome!" While the cir- 
cumstances under which this sentiment held 
good have long since passed away, we had 
assurance that there was one road of which 
it still was true, for early on the following 
morning the train in which we were sitting 
rolled into the very heart of the "Eternal 
City." The environment of the railway sta- 
tion was not essentially different from that 
of other cities which are not eternal, with the 
exception perhaps that it was the least clean 
of any place which we had visited. It was 
quite early in the morning when we arrived, 
but even then was very uncomfortably warm. 
By the time we had secured a place at which 
to "put up" we were so hot and tired that we 
felt like taking a few minutes just to com- 
plain about it. But we reflected that we 
could complain about the heat most any 
time, and now that we were in Rome we must 
see St. Peter's. I speak of the cathedral in 



177 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

this way, because in traveling around from 
one city to another as we were doing there is 
always one thing in each place which you 
would wish to see most, if you could see but 
one. We were wont to w T hile away some of 
the tedious hours of railway travel by debat- 
ing this question with reference to the city 
which was to be our next stopping place. I 
remember that we often became quite excited 
over it, more so than was really necessary 
considering that we always could see more 
than one thing. When we came to talk of 
Rome there were so many things which we 
wanted to see "if we could see but one" that 
we never quite succeeded in coming to a con- 
clusion. I noticed that it seemed to be taken 
for granted that we should go to St. Peter's 
first. 

Before reaching Borne we had decided that 
while feasting upon its many objects of his- 
toric interest we would not humiliate our- 
selves by asking our way of people who could 
not or would not understand what we meant. 
This uncomfortable condition we were going 
to avoid by consulting a map of the city 
which we had secured. So, after we had care- 
fully sought for and found the location of the 

178 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

wonderful church-, we discovered that we 
could easily reach it by means of the street 
car. We betook ourselves to the street and 
hailed the first car Avhich seemed to be going 
in the proper direction, It was right here 
that one of those ridiculous little things 
happened which make one feel exceedingly 
small. It made me feel so, although if the 
cathedrals with which my head was crammed 
had been put one on top of another they 
would certainly have reached almost to 
heaven. While waiting for the car it had 
been suggested that we see what street the 
hotel was on, so that if we should get lost in 
our wanderings we might find our way back 
again. So, glancing up at one of the build- 
ings near, I read aloud the words which I 
saw written there in large and conspicuous 
lettering. "Prohibite Faffissione." "All 
right/' I said. "This street is 'Prohibite Paf- 
fissione.' Shall I write it down or can we re- 
member it?" My husband said he thought he 
could remember it, and that I need not write 
it down. He pretended afterwards that lie 
saw the joke all the time, but he has never 
been able to convince me that he really did. 
Fortunately, the language of signs is the 



179 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

same in all countries, so we had no trouble in 
stopping the car. Soon the car turned into 
another street, and what was my surprise to 
learn that this street was also marked "Prohi- 
bite l'affissione." A third street also bore the 
same legend. "What does this mean?" I 
asked. "Is this the same street all the time, 
although it does seem to zigzag s.o?" There 
was a twinkle in the eyes of the person to 
whom this question was addressed, and then 
the light came to my mind. Not slowly, as 
when rosy fingered morn rises from her couch, 
and so forth, but suddenly, like a tremendous 
flash of lightning. And I — well — I looked 
around for an aperture sufficiently small to 
hide my shrinking form. "Prohibite l'affis- 
sione" is the simple Italian for "post no bills." 
I did not forget it after that. 

We had been moving on all this time, faster 
than I am getting on with my story, and very 
soon the car stopped and we discovered that 
it was going no farther. It was that busy and 
interesting spot known as the "Piazza Vene- 
zia." This reminds me of what I had thought 
of a number of times before, viz.: that the 
word "piazza" had heretofore been associated 
in mv mind with the shed like attachment 



180 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

t: 

usually adjacent to the American front door. 
But in Borne, the word is applied to the large 
open squares which abound throughout 
the city, and are used as the centers 
of business of different kinds. If it 
had been in this country the conductor 
would have announced, "All change cars." 
But no one did so in Borne, and we got off 
because the rest of the people in the car did 
so. St. Peter's was nowhere to be seen, so 
we judged that we must take another car, but 
which one? We had not .counted upon this 
circumstance when we had decided to ask no 
directions. We were about to hastily adapt 
ourselves to the conditions and demand "Du- 
omo San Pietro," when a car so labeled drew 
up to the spot. For once they did things 
right in Borne, and we were soon upon our 
way again without having broken our resolve. 
I kept forgetting to look out on the street, 
which, by the way, was the "Via Nazionale," 
but found myself continually looking at the 
people who were in the car and those who 
from time to time sot off and on. The thought 
which was passing through my mind, and 
which continued to do so during the days we 
were here, was: "And this is Borne! And 



181 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

these are Romans! Why, in that other day to 
be a Koman was greater than a king." We 
crossed the Tiber, and as I looked at its yel- 
low waters I thought of the boys at school 
who used to declare so heroically : 

"Oil Tiber, Father Tiber, to whom the Romans pray, 
A Roman's life, a Roman's arms take thou in charge 
this day." 

It must have been a much wider stream 
"When Horatius kept the bridge," for it looks 
now as if a person could almost wade across 
it. The car passed very near to the castle of 
"St. Angelo," one of the most interesting 
buildings in Rome. I was not familiar with 
its history when I first saw the building, but 
was so attracted by it that I looked it up, 
and was well repaid for doing so. It is circu- 
lar in form, rising as it does just beyond one 
of the prettiest bridges in Rome. It is still 
beautiful, in spite of the ravages of time and 
the barbarian hosts. Within a very few 
minutes after we had passed the castle of St. 
Angelo we found ourselves literally in the 
"arms of St, Peter." The circular pil- 
lared porticos- which extend out on each 
side of the door give one the feeling 

182 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

that the great church has arms. Upon the 
right as you look at it, stands the Vatican-, 
that building which has played so large a 
part in the history of the world, attached as it 
were to one of the elbows. I imagine that if 
one could get up into the air and look down 
upon St. Peter's it would have the appear- 
ance of a large cross -with a pair of huge claws 
extending out from its foot and a bunch on its 
elbow. The first impression which came to 
me when my eyes rested upon the, noted 
structure was that I had seen it before. We 
had the universal experience of not finding it 
so large as we thought it would be. On ac- 
count of its very size, the dome is so far from 
the door that it is not seen to advantage from 
the front, and it is from the rear that its real 
gigantic proportions loom up. We passed 
through the wide portico and entered the 
church. The atmosphere was cool, even chilly, 
after the intense heat of the morning sun. 
The "dim religious light" which was all that 
was admitted by the heavily stained glass 
windows, gave an added effect to the sense of 
distance which lay stretched out before our 
eyes as we turned toward the center of the 
building. Immensity rather than beauty, was 

183 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

my first thought. Everything is so remark- 
ably large that the sense of beauty is almost 
overshadowed while trying to grasp the gen- 
eral effect. As was suggested before, the 
church, on account of its position and shape, 
does not seem as large as it really is. Other 
cathedrals which are much smaller, for ex- 
ample, those at Milan or Cologne, compare fa- 
vorably with St. Peter's in size because they 
stand where they can be seen as a whole. But 
when it comes to the inside, there is nothing 
like the great cathedral of Rome. One thing 
which made it seem very large was that there 
were no seats of any kind to be seen. We had 
at that time no means of knowing why this 
was the case, or upon what occasions seats 
were used. Slowly and silently we walked up 
the great center aisle. The details were not 
essentially different from those of other ca- 
thedrals, but it was the largeness and white- 
ness of everything which impressed us. At 
stated intervals along the aisles there were 
altars surmounted by beautiful paintings. But 
the glory of it all is the magnificent altar, 
which is situated directly under the dome. 
We did not hurry to reach the center, but lin- 
gered along, taking our time to inspect the 

184 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

statuary and paintings, which are on all sides. 
I understand that there are several hundred 
statues and as many paintings within these 
vast walls. The historic bronze statue of St. 
Peter himself, the great toe of w T hich is partly 
worn aw^ay by the devoted kisses of his mil- 
lions of followers held our attention for some 
time. In front of the altar is an opening, 
where, by descending a short flight of stairs, 
the visitor is shown what the guide declares 
to be the caskets containing the actual bodies 
of Peter and Paul. A pair of gilded doors are 
unlocked, but the caskets are protected by a 
heavy iron grating. I w^as much impressed by 
the colossal figure of a kneeling pope, which 
faces the entrance to the tomb of the saints, 
We were so close as to be able to touch this 
figure, and could realize how much larger it 
was than the ordinary man. Statues of the 
different popes stand in alcoves. They are 
very large, and the workmanship fine. I felt, 
as they stood there with outstretched hands, 
that those hands of marble still wielded a 
portion of the mighty influence which the 
living ones had done. 

As we roamed about the church, which we 
visited as often as possible during the stay 



185 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

here, I tried to fix certain facts in my mind 
with reference to it, The church was begun 
in the year 90 A. D. upon the supposed site 
of the grave of the apostle Peter. I did not 
try to remember the names of the persons 
who have added to it or torn it down since 
that time. Michael Angelo planned the pres- 
ent dome, which was to surmount the church 
in the shape of a Greek cross. But a later 
architect remodeled it into the shape of a 
Latin cross, thus placing the dome so great a 
distance from the front as to spoil the effect 
of it from that position. As this is the largest 
church in the w^orld, I felt that it would be 
worth while to try and retain some of the 
actual figures in connection with its measure- 
ments. 

Its total length is 696 feet (corresponding 
very nearly to tw^o blocks, including streets 
and alleys, upon our ordinary streets), and it 
is 450 feet across the transepts. The diameter 
of the dome is 138 feet, and its extreme height 
is 435 feet. The cost of the main building is 
estimated at $50,000,000. We were not able 
to visit the "village upon the roof," made up 
of small houses occupied by custodians and 
workmen of the church, although we desired 
very much to do so. 

186 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

The galleries of the Vatican, which adjoin 
the church, include those devoted to painting, 
and those devoted to sculpture. The former, 
including the Sistine Chapel, may be entered 
from the circular portico at the front of the 
building. But the sculpture gallery opens in 
a most peculiar manner from an alley at the 
extreme rear of the church. You do not re- 
alize the size of St. Peter's until you are 
obliged to Avalk entirely around it. This walk 
w^ell repays the effort for this reason, and also 
because a fine view of the magnificent dome 
may thus be secured. There is a long, grad- 
ually ascending hall to be traversed before 
reaching the rooms full of pictures. The en- 
trance to the hall is guarded by a group of 
men wearing very striking costumes. As I 
remember it, the costume consisted of a pair 
of very loose, baggy knickerbockers and 
blouse of bright yellow, with a stripe of scar- 
let in here and there. The head was adorned 
men wearing very striking costumes. As I re- 
member it, the costume consisted of a pair of 
very loose, baggy knickerbockers and blouse 
of bright yellow, with a stripe of scarlet 
let in here and there. The head was adorned 
with a large "Tarn O'Shanter" of the same 



187 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

material. We went through a large number 
of rooms and halls, but I remember best the 
Sistine Chapel, and the series of rooms con- 
taining the mural paintings by Eaphael and 
his pupils. 

The Sistine Chapel is not of extraordinary 
size, but is noted among other things for the 
"History of the Creation/' which Michael An- 
gelo has left upon the ceiling, and the marvel- 
ous conception of the "Last Judgment'' which 
adorns the entire end of the room, by the 
same artist. The figures of the prophets and 
sybils in the alcoves above the windows at- 
tract much admiration. The history of how 
these paintings came to be done is most inter- 
esting, but much too long to be reviewed here. 
There is almost no furniture in the room, 
which leaves the mind of the visitor entirely 
free to be devoted to the examination and en- 
joyment of the paintings. Those upon the 
ceiling are seen to better advantage by the 
use of a hand glass, as the neck soon becomes 
weary with the unsual exertion of holding the 
head back, and the eyes soon rebel against the 
unnatural strain of looking up. It is very in- 
teresting to accompany the inspection of the 
pictures with the printed description of them. 

188 






THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

For though one may have carefully studied 
them beforehand, it is difficult to fully under- 
stand them without a description on the spot. 
The "Last Judgment," which depicts the 
imagined condition of spirits in another 
world, is so vivid as to be terrible. We found, 
however, that the finger of time had been 
laid upon it, with the usual effect that it is 
dim and in some places beginning to chip off. 
After a tour of the Sistine Chapel we went to 
the rooms known as the "Stanze of Raphael." 
Among the famous pictures to be seen there 
I remember best "Parnassus," "The School of 
Athens" and "The Vision of Attila." Then 
Ave passed on to that room which contains the 
three pictures than which there are no more 
renowned and beautiful in the world. They 
are all by Raphael. First and foremost is 
the "Transfiguration" (the last painting exe- 
cuted by this artist.) Next is the "Madonna 
di Foligno," and third, "The Last Communion 
of St. Jerome." This last picture is one which 
must be seen in order to be appreciated. There 
are pictures, copies of which represent them 
fairly well. Not so here. The copies of this pic- 
ture which I had seen never meant anything 
to me, although I had always read that it was 



189 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN f OUR. 

one of the world's most famous pictures. It 
is the expression upon the face of the dying 
saint which takes hold upon the mind, and 
refuses to be forgotten. There is aspiration, 
inspiration, transfiguration, but none of these 
words really describe it, And it is just this 
indescribable something which is everything 
to the picture that the copies of it fail utterly 
to touch. The "Transfiguration" is most beau- 
tiful. It is the face of the ascending Christ 
in this painting which holds the attention 
while looking at it, and clings to the mind 
after leaving it. These pictures become more 
and more beautiful the more they are seen, 
and Ave returned to them as often as possible 
during our stay in Rome. 

After the gallery of paintings came the 
sculpture gallery. In order to reach this lat- 
ter collection, one is obliged to pass down 
and out of the long passageway again, past 
the gaily clothed guards at the door, and 
around the entire building. It occurs to every 
one to wonder at this inconvenient arrange- 
ment. I could think of no reason except the 
desire to impress the strangers with the idea 
of the size of the church. We were certainly 
impressed as Ave should not have been other- 



190 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

wise, for the day was hot each time Ave went 
there, and it seemed that we should never 
reach the end of the journey. 

The sculpture is beautifully arranged, the 
most important pieces being in rooms by 
themselves. After having looked at art works 
a good deal, one realizes how much it means 
to have one thing in a room by itself. It is 
next to impossible for the mind, especially 
when somewhat wearied, to hold itself to the 
contemplation of a single piece, when other 
beautiful things are in close proximity. 

The "Apollo Belvedere" is probably the 
best known of any piece of statuary in the 
Vatican. The "Lao-coon" is there, but that is 
something of which I have always had a hor- 
ror, and so in spite of its beauty I hurried past 
it w T ith only a glance. The "Boxers" is fine, 
and there are rooms and rooms full of the 
most beautiful things, some of which I re- 
member in detail, and others of which I only 
remember in the mass. After leaving the gal- 
lery we were obliged to walk way around the 
building again before we could get away from 
it, but this gave us another look at the foun- 
tains and the obelisk, which add so much to 
the beauty of the circular enclosure in front. 

191 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE CAPITOLINE HILL. FORUM AND COLOSSEUM. IN- 
TERESTING EXPERIENCES. 

Next among the objects of interest in Rome 
after the great cathedral came the "Capito- 
liqe Hill." From the historical standpoint, 
this is the most important of the seven hills 
npon which Rome sat in the days of her 
power. The summit of this hill was reached 
by climbing a long flight of steps. When the 
top was reached we found a square sur- 
rounded by buildings, every one of which was 
richly fraught with historical interest. In ; 
the center of the square stands the world fa- 
mous equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, 
and to one side are the statues of Constantino 
and his son, which we were told once stood 
belowbythe"Arch of Constantine." Of course 
everything has been changed many times 
since the "Gapitollne Hill" was in its glory. 
Still, we easily lent ourselves to the spell of 
the moment, and gladly believed that we 
were looking upon the original and terrible 



192 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

"Tarpeian Bock," from which traitors and 
other criminals were hnrled down to their 
death, and which received its name from the 
unfortunate "Tarpeia." There is a building 
called the "Capitol/' but at the present time 
it is only used for relics of "Ancient Rome." 
There is a museum in another of the build- 
ings. It seemed to me, after a tour of it, that 
there was much material there which was 
neither valuable nor interesting, but was 
simply kept there as a filling for the few 
things which were really fine. There were 
three pieces which repaid me for the time 
spent upon the whole. These were the "Dying 
Gaul," the "Capitoline Venus" and the "Mar- 
ble Faun." It is this latter statue which gave 
the name to Hawthorne's famous romance. 
The "Dying Gaul" is a wonderful creation. 
Every detail of the great masculine frame is 
perfect, and the expression upon the face is 
remarkable. 

In this building is found the room contain- 
ing nothing but "Busts of Emperors." But 
by this time I was so tired of "busts of emper- 
ors" that I felt that I never wanted to see 
another. In the first place, the emperors (with 
the possible exception of Julius Caesar) are 



193 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

none of them good looking. And many of the 
faces seemed a simple repetition of the heavy, 
sodden features, double chin and flabby 
cheeks. A study in psychology would have 
revealed something of the wicked thoughts 
and passions which had contributed to the 
moulding of those unlovely features now set 
forever in marble. I did not feel it my duty 
•to so punish myself as to look at them, and 
so taking one peep at the long rows of them, 
I hastened away to scenes less depressing. 

And now, at last, we have finished our 
sightseeing upon the top of the hill, and have 
turned to where we can look out upon the old 
"Koman Forum." The Forum itself is sur- 
rounded by interesting ruins, while just be- 
yond it rise the walls of the stately "Colos- 
seum." I had wondered so many times how 
the Forum and its surroundings would look 
that it was hard for me to realize that it was 
the actual and not the imaginary "Ancient 
Koine" upon which I was gazing. There is a 
large tract of ground, a number of feet lower 
than the surrounding portions, out of which 
at various intervals rise arches, pillars 
and walls in various stages of decay. 
It is quite evident that they were 

194 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

"built to stay/' or even " these frag- 
ments would n6t remain after so many centu- 
ries to tell the story of that wonderful civiliz- 
ation. Some of these things were built be- 
fore Christ came to earth, although many of 
the most remarkable ones came into being in 
the first centuries of the Christian era. Some 
new old things are being found all the time, 
and at that time there were men and teams 
at work seeking for the buried treasures of 
the long departed days. The objects which 
appear in the guide books and in pictures as 
"temples" of different gods, such as Saturn, 
Castor and Pollux, and others, are in reality 
crumbling pillars which might have been 
used to sustain porches or projecting roofs of 
actual temples. The ruins are often held to- 
gether by iron bands of very modern appear- 
ance. The great arches, notably those of Sep- 
timus Severus, Drusus and Constantine, are 
most interesting, because they bear upon 
their sides the history of the various achieve- 
ments of the people in w-hose honor they were 
built. These stories written in marble im- 
pressed me greatly. A part of the ancient 
city is surrounded by a fence. As we were 
strolling along the road which winds around 

195 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

it, inspecting the different points of interest, 
we came to an open gate. As there seemed to 
be nothing to prevent, we were about to go 
down and obtain a close view of the ruins. 
Suddenly an Italian popped out from some- 
where and demanded "One franc each." "One 
franc each," we laughingly repeated. This 
we have found to be the watchword of the 
country. And such is the case. Wherever 
there is an interesting bit of ruin these people 
who have but scant idea, if any, of its value, 
put up a fence and demand "one franc each." 
We decided that w r e could enjoy the ruins just 
as well from the outside, so we kept our "one 
franc each." A little farther along upon this 
same road we were suddenly moved as by one 
impulse to look behind us. No one had 
touched us, but there was a feeling as if some 
one w r as very near. We turned none too 
soon, for close upon us was an Italian woman, 
bareheaded and slouchy. In her hand she 
carried a kind of flat wire coil, something like 
a large watch spring. We had turned so sud- 
denly that she had no time to conceal the ob- 
ject, with which, doubtless;, she was about to 
abstract- something from our pockets. She 
appeared rather more provoked than embar- 



196 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

rassed at being discovered before her scheme 
was accomplished. She twirled the coil with 
an air of assumed innocence, walked slowly 
along, allowing the distance between us to 
gradually increase, and finally turned around 
and went back. It was a disagreeable expe- 
rience, and I with difficulty threw off the 
feeling that every person we met was plan- 
ning how he might steal something from us. 




We soon found ourselves in front of the 
"Colosseum." This, of course, is the most in- 
teresting and important of all the ruins. And 
why should it not be? Think of the mighty 
conflicts w T hich have been waged both within 
and without those mighty walls. They were 



197 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

built in the year 80 A. D., and still they are 
there. Even the prominent .' appearances of 
decay are deceptive, for that part of the wall 
which is gone was pulled down so that the 
material might be used for other buildings. 
We were told that many of the largest build- 
ings in modern Rome were constructed from 
material taken from the walls of the "Colos- 
seum." And yet such a small portion seems 
to be gone. 

As we strolled about the "Sands of 
the Arena" we thought of all the sights 
which those walls had looked upon. The 
spectacles, the games, the combats, be- 
tween man and man and between man 
and beast. All traces of seats have 
disappeared. Only the bare w T alls slope 
back from the grass grown center. There are 
stone steps by which one may ascend to the 
ancient galleries, and the walls are buttressed 
so as to make them safe. We climbed (for 
one franc each) to where we could overlook 
the highest portion, and from there took a 
long look over the city, "ancient and mod- 
ern." The "Via Sacra" was in full view, 
stretching far away in the distance. Return* 
ing again to the arena, we inspected the open* 

198 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ings in the ground from which the prisoners 
emerged to take their chances in the conflicts 
before the assembled crowds. How terrible 
it must have been for the victims to look up 
to those tiers of seats filled oftentimes with 
gaily dressed women, lounging upon soft 
robes and cushions, and see the appeal for 
mercy met with the awful "thumbs down." 

Our next experience was to take a walk 
through that portion of the city known as the 
"Ghetto." It w^ould be as well to ride here, 
were it not for the fact that a closer inspec- 
tion is possible from on foot. (I confess that 
a retrospect suggested that our view in this 
case was too close.) Many of the streets are 
so narrow as to be nothing but alleys. We 
found ourselves literally "in the very thick of 
it." The alleys were dark, damp and unclean 
in the worst possible sense. The buildings 
which opened on them seemed to have no way 
of being lighted or aired except from the 
street. We gave way to our curiosity some- 
what, and peered into the darkness of what 
were more like dens for animals than homes 
for human beings. Sometimes there were 
men working with tools in these dens, 
sometimes we saw women knitting, sew- 



199 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ing or tending babies. The only re- 
straint seemed to be the occasional po- 
liceman whom I noticed frequented the 
sunnier parts of this unfortunate district. If 
we eyed them curiously, they certainly re- 
turned the compliment with interest. They 
even reminded me of wild animals waiting to 
spring upon their victims. We decided not 
to go that way after dark. The heart rending 
part of it is that human beings are willing to 
live in such abject degradation, and other hu- 
man beings are brought into the world to live 
on in the same condition in their turn. Were 
the people so in the days when the "Colos- 
seum" was building, and will they always be 
so? In that climate, where, of all places, the 
strictest sanitary regulations are necessary, 
to conserve the public health and the public 
morals, there seems to be only such sanitary 
regulations as nature, already handicapped 
in every possible way, is able to provide. 

I remember that we spent one afternoon in 
Rome just visiting old churches. There are 
any number of them there, and of course we 
could not begin to see them all, but we picked 
out a few of the most interesting and devoted 
ourselves to them. Each one which we saw 

200 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

had some special point of interest. The first 
was the "Lateran." This takes precedence 
in rank over all the churches in Borne, even 
St. Peter's, and is the church of the pope, it 
being here he receives his coronation. 

The baptistry, which adjoins the church, 
contains a most remarkable iron door. The 
hinges emit a singing sound when the door is 
opened, the different notes of the scale being 
represented. The guide told us a long story 
about it, but I could not remember it after- 
wards, and I have not been able to* find out 
about it in any way since. Another point of 
interest here was the "Holy Stairs." These 
are in a building near by, and are said to have 
been brought from the house of Pilate, and to 
have been trod by the feet; of Jesus. The 
stairs are of marble, twenty-eight in number, 
and are in a room by themselves. No one is 
allowed to ascend them except upon his 
knees. While we were there a woman was 
ascending in the required manner, kissing 
each step fervently as she passed it. A very 
aged white haired man was pressing his 
forehead upon the lower step. In the square 
in front of this church stands the oldest thing 
which we saw upon the journey. This is an 

201 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

obelisk, the largest of its kind in the world. 
It was erected in Thebes in the year 1597 B. 
C. It was brought to Eome in the third cen- 
tury after Christ. 

Another church of interest is called "St 
Peter in Chains." It is said to have been built 
for the purpose of holding the chains which 
bound St. Peter after his captivity. The thing 
which attracted us to go there was not the 
"chains of St. Peter" (the existence of which 
might be a trifle doubtful), but the statue of 
"Moses" by Michael Angelo>. There was no 
myth about the statue, for we found it there, 
just as described. The large, powerful hand 
holds the flowing beard, and the "horns," 
which have been the subject of discussion by 
artists and theologians as well, rise in their 
glory. 

Another church was the one called "St. 
Paul's Outside the Gates." It is said to be 
built upon the original burial spot of St. Paul, 
and is a most beautiful and modern cathedral. 
A visit to it took us outside the walls of 
Eome, the inspection of which, as we passed 
through them, was exceedingly interesting. 
In many places the walls have fallen away, 
but upon this road they stand just as they 
were in the days of the emperors. The church 

202 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

has been built and rebuilt many times since 
the days of the apostle, but there are things 
about it now which are quite distinctive. The 
long nave, with its eighty pillars of solid 
granite, are wonderful, and the statuary and 
other decorations are all in harmony with the 
pillars. 

The most perfect of all the very ancient 
things in Roma is the "Pantheon." This 
unique temple "to all the gods" was built 
twenty centuries before Christ. Some others 
have been built after its pattern at different 
times, but this stands alone in point of time, 
and general interest. Once it was used as a 
military fortress when one pope was in arms 
against another. The peculiar feature of the 
Pantheon is the rotunda shaped interior, 
lighted only by a circular opening in the apex. 
The diameter of the opening is thirty feet, 
but it appears to be much smaller from below. 
It is impossible to describe the effect of the 
light shining down from above upon these old 
altars, monuments and tombs. It is now used 
as a burial place for famous Italian artists, 
and these old walls have the honor of shelter- 
ing the last resting place of the most noted of 
all artists, Raphael Sanzio. The statesman, 
Victor Emanuel, also lies buried here, 

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THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTEK XIX. 

THE PINCIAN HILL. A ROMAN VILLA. PISA AND THE 
WONDERFUL TOWER. 

After having faithfully visited so many old 
churches we felt free to enjoy to the fullest 
extent our drive to the beautiful "Pincian 
Hill." Although it was one of Game's seven 
hills, the "Pincian" is not covered w r ith crum- 
bling ruins of the splendid works of other 
days, but is a magnificent park, fitted up and 
adorned in the most modern style. Hand- 
some driveways are adorned with profusely 
flowering plants, and statues and fountains 
are in evidence on every hand. From one 
portion of the hill there is a fine view of 
the entire city. The great dome of St 
Peter's is the most conspicuous object, but 
the Pantheon is very prominent, and a long 
stretch of the Tiber embankment. Just be- 
yond the "Pincian" is the "Borghese Villa." I 
had always wondered what a Eoman Villa 
was like, and was delighted with our drive 
through this one. It has the appearance of a 

204 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

private park, very large, with its walks and 
drives and beautiful natural scenery. The 
"Palace" stands in the midst of it all, and is 
said to contain some of the finest art works in 
Italy, but upon that day it was closed. Many 
other villas lie in the immediate suburbs of 
the city, and although they are merely private 
homes, the drives are open to the public. The 
courtesy of the houses is often extended when 
certain conditions are complied with. We 
also saw the "Quirinal Palace," w T hich is the 
home of the king and queen when they are in 
Rome., We only saw it from the exterior, as 
we learned that admission was only granted 
by card from some influential person, and we 
were not fortunate to possess such a friend in 
Rome. The Palace is not imposing from the 
outside. It has the appearance of a large, bare, 
yellow hotel. But I understand that the in- 
terior is very magnificent. 

The "Chancery Palace," a building which 
corresponds to our Court House, is a building 
of plain gray stone. The guide told us that 
the stone for this building was taken from the 
walls of the Colosseum. He also informed as 
at the same time that the statue of Pompey, 
at the foot of which "great Caesar fell," was 



205 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the private property of a Roman by the name 
of Prince Staffa, We further learned that a 
view of the statue could be obtained from the 
porter, the prince himself not being im the 
city. We were anxious to behold this his- 
toric object, and so were hastily driven to the 
palace of the prince. We were fortunate 
enough to gain admission to the large barn 
like building, which was honored by the name 
of palace, and were soon gazing upon the 
statue. We agreed to accept it as genuine, 
as it looked exactly like the pictures we had 
seen, and it was certainly very fine. Possibly 
the porter thought that we seemed a little 
incredulous, and wishing to arouse more en- 
thusiasm pointed to a large dark stain on one 
of its sides and exclaimed: "Caesar Blut! 
Caesar Blut!" We nodded and said: "Oh, 
yes, Caesar's blood; how interesting." But 
even though I gently urged my lagging imag- 
ination, because I wanted to think it was 
Caesar's blood, I was not very successful in 
accomplishing my purpose. 

It was somewhat the same with the famous 
"Mamertine Prison," where Peter and Paul 
were kept before their death. There is a little 
chapel upon the site of the prison, but the 

206 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

actual prison lies two stories underground. 
This was our tirst experience in going down 
stairs two flights, although we had gone up 
stairs any number of them. When the pris- 
ons were in use, so the guide said, there were 
no stairs at all, but the prisoners were let 
down through holes in the floor. In the lower 
of the cells were exhibited the actual cages 
in which the apostles were imprisoned, and 
to make the matter more realistic, there were 
tw^o male figures in bronze gazing at us 
through the bars. A convenient opening in 
the floor disclosed the water which had ap- 
peared miraculously at the time of the con- 
version of the jailor, and which was used by 
Peter to baptize him. We thought w r e would 
be a little facetious, and so asked the guide if 
that was the actual water which appeared to 
Peter, but the joke was lost entirely, for he 
looked at us very soberly and repeated the 
statement just as he had made it before. 

There was a great door opening from this 
cell into the "Cloaca Maxima," into which the 
bodies of the prisoners used to be thrown, and 
through which Catiline made his escape after 
the oration of Cicero against him. The huge 
stone was pointed out to which Jugertha was 



207 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

chained by Hannibal and starved to death. 
How history and legend cross each other in 
a place of this kind! 

Last of all came the "Catacombs." How 
many visions rise at the name of "dark galler- 
ies, low corridors and vaulted halls, where 
sunshine never enters." Although the time 
which we had planned to spend in Rome had 
expired we felt that we could not leave with- 
out one glimpse into those subterranean 
chambers which were so closely associated 
with the life and death of scores of the early 
Christians. On the morning we visited 
the Catacombs we were fortunate enough 
to secure a cab driver who could speak 
English. To be sure, he was an Ital- 
ian, but he wore a clean collar and a new 
straw hat, and was exceedingly polite and 
anxious to give us all the information he 
could. He called for us at an early hour, and 
we were soon rolling along the "Appian 
Way" listening to the description of the 
things which we were passing. He had the 
soft, musical Italian voice, with just enough 
accent to make it interesting. We passed the 
"Tombs of the Scipios," and the little house 
called "Domine quo Vadis," said to have 



208 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

been erected upon the spot where Peter met 
Christ when fleeing from Eome. We hap- 
pened to be familiar with this legend, on ac- 
count of the recent popularity of the story of 
Sienkiewicz, but we appeared not to be, so we 
enjoyed hearing him tell it in his simple, al- 
most childlike way. 

We soon stopped at a gate, which we were 
told to enter. Almost involuntarily we looked 
around to see where the "Catacombs" were, 
not realizing for an instant that we were 
probably standing upon them. A monk with 
a bald head and a long brown gown, who 
seemed to be in charge of the little house 
which stood near the gate, soberly handed us 
each a tiny taper, and taking a larger one 
himself, bade us follow him. What a chill 
came upon us as we descended the crumbling 
stairs! We followed him through many long, 
dark passages while he described the differ- 
ent uses and arrangements of them. These 
particular catacombs were used as places of 
refuge for the early Christians, from the per- 
secutions of the emperors. The excavations 
in the sides of the passageways were the 
places where the dead had been interred. At 
the present time all the bodies have been re- 

209 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

moved, although many parts of the tombs 
containing inscriptions remain. I felt as I 
followed the dim light of the taper before us 
that I would rather be above ground in the 
sunlight, and I reflected that I would rather 
be torn Jby the lions of Nero than to lose my 
way in one of these dark streets. No wonder 
the Christians were safe when they entered 
here, for I can imagine that no one with a 
bad conscience would risk himself within the 
shadow of the Catacombs. On the whole, I 
was glad when the tour was over and we were 
safely back in the cab again. As we were 
about to return to Rome the driver turned 
about in his seat and sweetly remarked: "Eef 
you will geeve me two francs more I weel 
"trive you to de plaace wear you can see de 
original footprint of Christ when he appeared 
to Peter in de veeshion." We discussed the 
situation, for a, moment and finally told the 
driver that we did not have time to see any- 
thing more that morning. He really seemed 
to believe that he could do as he had said. I 
have been wondering ever since who the peo- 
ple are who think to secure a view of the 
"original footprint of Christ" for "two francs 
more." That evening at ten o'clock we took 
the train for Pisa. 

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THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

The compartments for both men and 
women were so crowded that I was put into 
one for women alone. Not for many a long 
day shall I forget that long night. I wanted 
to curl up in a corner by the open window and 
go to sleep. Quite another fate was in store 
for me. There were three Italian women in 
the car when I got in, and if it were not slang 
I should say that they "whooped it up." They 
took no notice of me at first, but began to 
sing. Sometimes they sang loudly, very 
loudly it seemed to me when I was so anxious 
to sleep, sometimes not so loudly, but still 
they sang. I thought they would be tired of 
singing after a while, and then I could go to 
sleep. Well! they did stop singing, but I did 
not go to sleep, for they suddenly discovered 
me, and from that time on I became the focus 
of their interest. They assailed me almost 
fiercely and talked to me rapidly, in Italian 
of course. I understoood nothing of what they 
were saying, and they reminded me of a lot of 
turkeys when some strange creature has in- 
vaded the sanctity of their home. I soon dis- 
covered that their attentions were meant in 
kindness, but they were fully as annoying for 
all that. After a while I understood that they 

211 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

thought there wias too much wind blowing in 
onto my head, and they w T anted to close the 
window. I wanted the window open, but 
I saw that resistance was useless, and 
so submitted and the window was 
closed. Then they decided that the light 
was shining too strongly in my eyes, and I 
must move from my comfortable position to 
the other side of the car. I did not want to 
change, but I was helpless in their hands. I 
tried to converse w^ith them in English, but 
whenever I did so they sadly shook their 
heads and were still for a few seconds. Per- 
haps I could have kept them still by talking 
very fast, but that would have been worse 
than being talked to. When the cars stopped 
at a station one of the girls got out and 
bought a bottle of something. Oh! How I 
hoped and prayed they would drink it all 
up themselves and forget about me. My hopes 
were in vain, and my prayers were not an- 
swered. They simply made me drink some of 
it, and I immediately wished I had not, So 
the night wore on, and I became so weary 
with continually changing my seat and being 
talked to in high Italian, that I began to won- 
der who I was. 



212 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

We reached Pisa early in the morning. 
There was only one thing there which we 
wished to see, and we had planned to stay over 
one train to visit the famous "leaning tower." 
We asked for the "Duomo," which seemed to 
be the Italian word for almost everything 
which we wanted to see, and started out in 
the direction indicated. It was a most inter- 




esting walk, for the old town was just waking 
up. Barefooted women were hurrying about 
as if going to work, shutters were being taken 
down and similar sights abounded. We 
walked on for some time, so long that we 



213 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

thought we must have lost our "way, when 
suddenly, and without warning, the tower 
loomed up ■ almost within a few feet of us. 
j\£y first sensation upon seeing it was most 
peculiar. I felt that it would certainly fall 
down before we could reach it. I could form 
no idea of how much it leaned (the guide book 
said thirteen feet), but the sensation of seeing 
anything out of the perpendicular was so un- 
usual that it seemed to sway. I reasoned that 
the sensation of expecting it to fall arose from 
the fact that I had never seen anything lean- 
ing so much as that did which did not ulti- 
mately fall. Aside from its leaning (which 
spoiled it for me), it is a: most beautiful thing. 
Pure white marble columns rise one on top 
of another to the height of 178 feet. I believe 
that visitors are allowed to go to the top of 
it for a franc, but I felt that I wanted to keep 
as far away from it as possible. While it 
would add to its beauty if it were straight, no 
doubt it would detract from its fascination. 
The cathedral and baptistry which make up 
the remarkable group of buildings at that end 
of the town are very fine, but the interest 
centers about the tower. 



214 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XX. 

FACE TOWARDS HOME. THE ALPS AGAIN. OTHER 
EXPERIENCES. 

Rome, in a sense, had been the end of our 
journey. In the first place, it was the farthest 
point from home, so that when our faces were 
turned away from the "Eternal City" we felt 
that we were homeward bound. I wonder if 
all travelers feel that peculiar thrill of impa- 
tience to be in their own country again, when 
they know for the first time that they are 
going towards it instead of away from it? 
Then, in another sense, Rome had been the 
culmination of our trip, for this was the city 
which most of all we had desired to see. 

Although there were still many beautiful 
and interesting things to be seen, we knew 
that for us the highest .point had been 
reached. The only other thing in Italy which 
we had wanted to see was the "leaning 
tower." After that was seen we felt impa- 
tient to be out of Italy. This feeling was 
caused partly by the intense heat, partly by 



215 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the fleas, partly by the uncleanly condition 
of the cars and hotels, and largely because 
we did not understand the language. (How 
often had returned to me the sage resolve of 
my earlier days never to go abroad until I 
had acquired the language of the countries 
where I intended to travel.) The towns 
through which we passed as we went north 
from Pisa were all small and evidently not 
much frequented by tourists. I should per- 
haps except Genoa, the birthplace of Colum- 
bus, through which w r e passed, but only 
stopped between trains. We learned that 
there was a cathedral there, and other things 
of interest, but we were full of cathedrals, 
and knew this one could not be as fine as 
others which we had seen. There is a beauti- 
ful statue of Columbus, which is near enough 
the station to be seen easily from that point. 
That night we stayed at an Italian town 
called Allessandria, Our experience here was 
exceedingly uncomfortable, We found a hotel 
at last, but no one connected with it had ever 
heard of the English language. But by that 
time we had picked up a few of the 
most common words, and by the use 
of these and many gestures we secured 



216 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

a room. The breakfast was not so easy. 
I remember that we ordered soft boiled 
eggs, which when we broke them* were 
found to be hardly cooked at all. We sent 
them back and asked that they be cooked. In 
they came again, in the same condition. 
There was not much else on the table that 
we could eat, and we were getting quite hun- 
gry. When we found that we could not eat 
the second installment of eggs my husband 
sprang from his chair, rushed into the 
kitchen, held up his watch and indicated upon 
the face of it the space of three minutes. 
Well ! we finished our breakfast, although the 
bread was so hard that we appreciated the 
bible reference about asking for bread and 
receiving a stone. Then we asked for our 
bill. We smiled when we were presented 
with a clothes^ brush. But when a purse was 
brought out and shaken the bill was forth- 
coming at once. 

We made a short stop at Mortara, and an- 
other at Novara. As we often found it con- 
venient to have eatables in hand, we made it 
a practice to carry with us a small willow 
basket, Up to this time we had felt that it 
was very plebian to carry a basket. Here, 

217 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

however, we discovered that a basket was 
very much of a luxury, and even attracted at- 
tention by its elegance. The other passengers 
carried their lunches in red handkerchiefs, 
sometimes hemmed, and sometimes not. 

As the evening drew on we became exceed- 
ingly weary and travel stained, and I felt that 
all that was necessary for us to do* was to 
exchange our basket for a red handkerchief 
and we would not know ourselves from the 
Italian peasantry. At the next station, 
Arona, the journey was delightfully varied 
by a boat ride across one of the pretty lakes 
m which abound in that portion of the country. 
This one was Lake Maggiore. The lake is 
surrounded by mountains, dotted with vil- 
lages and isolated houses. There is a soft 
haze which hangs very low, sometimes below T 
the mountain peaks. The two hours' ride took 
us past some delightful little islands, one of 
which was entirely built up with terraces and 
artificial gardens. We caught a fleeting view 
of statuary, climbing vines and flowers. It 
truly looked like some enchanted island, pre- 
pared by some jealous lover as a retreat for 
his bride. My imagination was soon busy 
weaving a delightful romance about it. But 

218 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

my visions were rudely dispelled by a refer- 
ence to the guide book, which declared that 
these islands in the lake were more romantic 
at a distance than they were near at hand, as 
they were very apt to be disagreeably unclean 
and unwholesome upon close inspection. But 
they were beautiful from the boat, and added 
decidedly to the pleasure of the ride. We 
went ashore at Palanza, and ate our supper 
on the piazza of a hotel overlooking the lake. 
The plan was to take a diligence from here to 
a place called Gravelona. Accordingly, at 
about half-past eight in the evening, w r e 
clambered up the long ladder and took our 
seats upon the top of the coach. While the 
daylight lasted it was fine. But long before 
we reached our destination the densest shades 
of night were upon us. There was not a spark 
of light about the coach nor along the road. 
We felt that the driver was losing time, and 
upon consulting our w^atches by lighting a 
match found there was danger of missing our 
train which was to take us on to the next sta- 
tion, where we were to spend the night. To 
be sure, it w r as not a matter of life and death 
that we take that particular train, but we had 
planned it that way, and it is a peculiarity of 



219 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

human nature to want to take the train which 
one has planned to take. We asked the driver 
if he would not hurry up. He did not under- 
stand English, and only shook his head. We 
appealed to the other passengers, who 1 were 
conversing in different languages, but no one 
understood us. As the coach rolled into the 
town we heard the train whistle some dis- 
tance away. We grew excited, the more so 
when the driver stopped to argue with a 
woman who had gotten off the coach about 
hex fare. Then they dropped some of the 
money, and had to light a match to find it. 
We implored him to hurry, but he took his 
own time, and the train was just snorting to 
be off as we rushed breathlessly into the sta- 
tion. Then the tickets had to be shown before 
we could get through the gates. Every pocket 
in every garment was hurriedly examined, 
and we decided that the tickets had been lost. 
Then they were found in the last pocket. 1 
was so excited that in some way I got through 
the gates while my husband was looking for 
the tickets. What was my horror and amaze- 
ment to find myself alone in that surging 
crowd. I looked madly towards the entrance 
gate where I had left him. I do not pretend 

220 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

to reinember just what I did or said. I think I 
demanded him from every one about me. But 
no one understood or took any notice of me. 
It seemed as if the train would start every 
second, and the immediate prospect was far 
from inviting. This state of affairs lasted for 
several dreadful seconds. I cannot describe 
the feeling of relief which thrilled me upon 
being addressed in a pleasant American voice 
with the words, "There is your husband, 
madam. " 

I first made sure of my husband, and then 
turned to thank the speaker. It proved to be 
a young Princeton graduate, who with a 
friend was making a pedestrian tour of north- 
ern Italy and Switzerland. They had come 
into the station just in time to witness the 
separation, and this prompt and kind action 
had saved us from the uncomfortable conse- 
quences of it. This is one of the things which 
is funnier to tell about than to experience. 

A two hours' ride brought us to Domodos- 
sola, where we spent the night. At the sta- 
tion we were partly annoyed, and partly 
amused, as we always were, by the number 
of people who wanted to carry the baggage. 
We chose to walk the short distance from the 



221 



The story op a European ffttfft. 

station to the hotel, and one persistent fellow 
followed us closely the entire way. "I won- 
der/' said one of our American friends, who 
had proved most delightful traveling compan- 
ions, "I wonder if that fellow expects to get a 
franc for following us up here. If he does, 
he will certainly be disappointed. But lots 
of Italians have been disappointed in 
the same way since I have been traveling in 
Italy." 

Domodossola was the place where we were 
to begin our journey across the Alps on the 
return trip. This time we were going over 
the "Siniplon Pass," and instead of tearing 
through the mountains after a steam engine, 
we were to be drawn over the outside of them 
by horses. This pass was made by Napoleon 
for the transportation of his army, between 
the years 1800 and 1806. It was a most stu- 
pendous undertaking. One receives a new 
understanding of that indomnitable spirit 
w^hen he sees what immense physical hin- 
drances had to be overcome in order to ac- 
complish his purpose. The very daring of it 
is overwhelming. We started our ascent of 
the Alps early in the morning, and in a pour- 
ing rain. But it soon cleared up, and we en- 

222 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN f OUft. 

tered with a will into the spirit of the occa- 
sion. For six long hours w 7 e went up. The 
road winds back and forth in a zigzag man- 
ner, as if it was doing its best to '"stick on." 
The horses settled themselves down to a slow, 
patient pull. The scenery through which we 
passed is beyond description. I can declare it 
is "grand," "impressive," "picturesque," 
"wild," "broken," "interesting," "roman- 
tic," "exquisite," "enchanting" 'and many 
other things. It was all these, to be 
sure, but still even this profusion of 
words does not describe the reality. Most 
of the time during the ascent the road ran 
along a mountain gorge, down which rushed 
a stream of considerable size. The mountains 
rise in almost perpendicular heights, and at 
every turn there is a new kind of waterfall. 
The scene changes momentarily. One water- 
fall was flat like a piece of lace, waving and 
changing in the sunlight. Another came 
down with a leap directly above the little 
stone bridge across which the road wound. 
It seemed like the last leap of an animal 
w T hich was hastening on with a mad rush to 
the very bottom of the chasm. I suppose it 
is still there, leaping over the heads of all the 

223 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

'other people who are going that way. I was 
obliged to reason with myself that nobody 
had ever been killed there in order to pre- 
serve my equanimity and enjoy myself. I had 
no desire to waste the pleasures of this rare 
day in being afraid. It seemed the most nat- 
ural thing in the world that we should join in 
with the waterfall and go leaping and dan- 
cing to the bottom. It was a little after noon 
when we reached the top. It almost made me 
dizzy to know that; we were 6,628 -feet above 
sea level. There was quite a little settlement 
of hotels there, and as is usual all stopped for 
dinner. Of course the dinner tasted good 
after the long ride, and there was plenty of 
time for a stroll in the vicinity before the 
horses were again in their places ready for 
the descent. The delights of the 'afternoon 
were quite equal to those of the morning, al- 
though of a different nature. There was clear- 
ly the sensation of going down, and the road 
was more dizzy. We stopped for a few min- 
utes at the celebrated old "Hospice." It was 
built by Napoleon as a soldiers' barracks, and 
is now a relic of the idea that there should be 
a place where travelers may stop without pay. 
But we found it poorly kept and hardly suit- 
able for refreshment of any kind. 

224 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUft. 

At the foot of the pass lies the beautiful 
little village of Brieg. This village, as it lies 
cuddling between the mountains, surrounded 
by the most picturesque scenery, was visible 
for eight long, delightful miles on the down- 
ward ride. All that we heard of the beauty 
■of this view was more than realized. And 
besides that, it was Switzerland again. It 
was about eight o'clock when we drove up to 
a neat little inn situated in the heart of Brieg, 
after that day altogether unparalleled in pre- 
vious experience. All through the night I 
seemed to be gazing upon that rich panorama 
of colors which had been before me for the 
long hours of that long day. Again I saw 
waterfalls of lace waving in the sunshine; 
again I was picking the mountain flowers and 
wondering at their beauty and variety; again 
I saw those peasant women and children with 
their wicker baskets fastened closely to their 
backs, toiling up the mountain steeps; again 
I felt the sensation of wanting to get out of 
the carriage and hold on to the grass. Not 
the least of the delights of such a day is the 
ability to live it over again for an indefinite 
number of times. 



225 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

A VISIT TO THE VALE OF CHAMONIX. WONDERS 
AROUND MOUNT BLANC. 

Our immediate destination, after the ride 
over the Simplon Pass, was the far-famed 
"Vale of Chamonix," which lies some three 
hundred feet up in the mountains. Ohamonix 
is really within the geographical boundaries 
of France, but it seems so much like Switzer- 
land, both in its surroundings and people, 
that we kept forgetting that it was not a part 
of the latter country. In order to see the beau- 
tiful vale the traveler must again ascend and 
descend the mountains. This time it was by 
way of the "Tete Noire" pass. Our experience 
durin»g the second day of mountain driving 
was reversed. We started out under a most 
beautifully clear sky, which soon became 
overcast. A cold, dismal rain soon began to 
fall, which continued at intervals during the 
entire day. The experience was peculiar, 
even though it was disappointing. The air 
was so heavy with mist that we could see 



226 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

nothing but the horses in front of us, and we 
seemed to be climbing away from "terra 
firma" directly up in the air. There were a 
good many "ups and downs'" during the day. 
The rain poured during the dinner hour, 
which prevented us from exploring the coun- 
try. 

We were crowded into the parlor of the 
mountain hotel with a lot of people who 
seemed to be regular "summer boarders/' and 
who stared at us most deliberately, and who 
seemed to rather resent the intrusion of stran- 
gers. We reached Chamonix at sundown, 
cold, wet and tired. Mount Blanc did not 
seem at all glad to see us, and although the 
sun shone upon his side, he steadily held his 
old head among the clouds and positively re- 
fused to smile upon us. 

Although the time here was short, it was 
memorable. The scenes among which we 
found ourselves were remarkable for their 
beauty, and were so unusual and different 
from anything which we had seen before that 
we were wonderfully impressed by them. We 
had had our first introduction to the glaciers 
the day before during the ride over the "Tete 
Noire" pass. As we neared the town of 



227 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Chanionix these great masses of ice lay piled 
up in the ravines and crevices of the mount- 
ains. It was difficult to believe that it was 
really ice lying right there so near to the 
green fields which lay stretched out below 
them. We secured a good view of the famous 
"Mer de Glac" from the road, and of other 
less noted glaciers. 

The village of Chamonix nestles directly at 
the foot of Mount Blanc, and we had hoped 
that our day there would be a clear one, so 
that we might see to good advantage the 
snow covered peaks about which we had 
heard so much. But alas! the morning dawned 
cloudy and heavy, and we arose with hearts 
that were also heavy. The mist was so thick 
that we could only see part way up the mount- 
ain in any direction. We decided to spend 
the morning in a tour of one of the glaciers 
which was most accessible. The "Glacier des 
Bossons" was selected, and thither we turned 
our steps. We carried our Alpine stocks and 
wore the stocking feet over our shoes. These 
stocking feet seem to melt into the ice and 
cling to it, thus lessening the danger of slip- 
ping while walking up hill on the slippery 
surface. The guides wear immense great 

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THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

shoes with hob nails in the toes. It took over 
an hour of steady, hard climbing to reach the 
glacier, which lies upon the side of Mount 
Blanc. During the ascent we were attracted 
b}^ the sight of the great blocks of ice which 
were coming down in the wooden chutes from 
the ice fields above. It seems that the in- 
habitants of this region are in the habit of 
utilizing this feature of their country, and the 
harvesting of the ice, so conveniently near at 
hand, all the year round is a regular industry. 
It is hardly necessary to mention that we 
kept at a most respectful distance from the 
troughs, for the ice blocks came down with a 
tremendous force, and it was quite evident 
that if we had seen fit to interfere in the least 
with one of them we should have gone upon a 
much longer journey than the one which we 
were then taking. 

We reached the glacier in due time, and 
after resting and cooling off at the "Chalet," 
we took a walk through what they called the 
"Grotto." This was a long passage, something 
like a tunnel cut directly through to the heart 
of the iceberg. It was lighted artificially, and 
the bare walls of cold, solid ice sent a chill to 
our very bones. Then we emerged into the 

229 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

open air once more, and ascending a ladder, 
found ourselves at last upon the top of a 
"real glacier." We were thankful for the 
stocking feet, and also for the Alpine stocks, 
which helped us over the many rough places 
in the glacier. The journey across occupied 
about fifteen minutes. We returned to Cham- 
onix on the other side of the glacier, crossing 
along the way many an angry little torrent 
formed by the melting of the ice above. The 
afternoon continued cloudy, and our stroll 
among the hills and footpaths was disappoint- 
ing. But just before the sun sank for the 
night the mists cleared just enough for us to 
catch a glimpse of the snow capped summit of 
the mountain. Just one portion shone out in 
delicate covering above the clouds. The next 
morning we arose early in order to take the 
diligence over a mountain road to La Fayet, 
whence we went by train to Geneva. We were 
delighted to find the sky perfectly clear, and 
Mount Blanc and his hoary companions fairly 
radiant in the brilliance of the sunshine. How 
the great snow fields tower on high when one 
can secure a good view of them. By looking 
through a great telescope which was conveni- 
ently placed so as to attract the departing 



330 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

tourists, we enjoyed a magnificent view of 
the snow fields which lie upon the top of the 
venerable peak. While we were standing 
there upon the ground, surrounded by green 
trees and blooming flowers, a glance through 
the telescope placed us among different 
scenes. The top of Mount Blanc reminded me 
of the appearance of a western town after a 
three days' blizzard. The morning ride from 
Chamonix to La Fayet was a wonderful one. 
It was great fun getting started. The dili- 
gence was an immense two story affair, 
drawn by six white horses. When all was 
ready a large horn was blown and we dashed 
off at a lively pace. We secured the back seat, 
which gave us an extended and lasting view 
of the beautiful scenery which we were leav- 
ing. As the coach rolled along a varied pano- 
rama of pictures greeted us. First, there was 
a large herd of goats being driven to pasture 
by a boy with a large horn swung over his 
shoulder, which he blew at short intervals. 
Each goat wore a bell, as do all animals in 
this mountainous country. Then we passed 
women who watched the cows and knit at the 
same time. This grew to be a common sight, 
fitting in harmoniously with the rest of th€ 



231 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

scenery. Then, at every turn, there was a 
different view of the snow capped mountains. 
The clouds hung thick and fleecy below the 
peaks, but the peaks towered above, glisten- 
ing in the sunshine. All at once a turn in the 
road excluded from our sight all of the beau- 
tiful outlook. Some one upon the coach ex- 
claimed sadly: "It is gone." But it was not 
gone, for it appeared again at the next turn, 
and with still another face. Just as the mount- 
ain never seems to get any nearer when one 
is walking towards it, so Mount Blanc never 
seemed to get any farther away as we drove 
from it. It followed hard after us, no matter 
where we turned. The soft, fleecy clouds 
which hung just below the peaks of the 
mountains seemed like feathery boas or tip- 
pets worn to keep them warm. At another 
turn the clouds were more isolated, and cud- 
dled down close to the peaks as if they loved 
them, and reminded me of birds hovering over 
their nests. I could not look enough, and those 
scenes which we passed that morning are 
more like visions than realities as they rise 
before my mind today. Much of the road was 
so narrow as to admit of the passage of only 
one team at a time. The driver blew his horn 



232 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

repeatedly to warn approaching vehicles 
(and there were a number that morning), of 
our approach. The road was so narrow that 
as the horses galloped around the curves 
there was danger enough to send the venture- 
some into an ecstacy of pleasure, and to make 
the timid ones shudder and turn pale. There 
are no written words which can pretend to do 
justice to this experience. 

From La Payet to Geneva the scenery is 
very beautiful, and the snow capped peaks of 
Mount Blanc are still visible in the distance. 
It is, however, more ordinary than that which 
lies immediately about Ohamonix. The sky 
was bluer and the clouds whiter than I ever 
saw them before. We made only a brief stop 
at the city of Geneva, although it is interest- 
ing enough, both from the historical and ar- 
tistic standpoint, to have occupied several 
days. But our days were numbered, and 
there were only a few of them left. Then Paris 
was still ahead of us, and I had the feeling 
that I "had not seen it all" until I had seen 
Paris. 

But the few hours which we spent in Ge- 
neva were very pleasant ones. We did not try 
to visit the art galleries, for we knew there 

233 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

was not time to do so satisfactorily. In fact, 
there were so many things of beauty to be 
seen out of doors that our time was fully oc- 
cupied with these. The city lies at the south 
end of the lake of the same name, and is 
divided into two parts by the River Rhone, 
which emerges from the lake at that point. 
This makes the city very pretty, as it gives an • 
opportunity for a number of picturesque 
bridges, and the lake lying so near gives it a 
most favorable setting. Rousseau was born 
here, and there is an island called after him 
upon which there is a statue of him. Then 
there is a charming park known as the "Eng- 
lish Gardens. " It lies along the bank of the 
lake, and is simply overflowing with fount- 
ains, statuary and flowers. After a long 
walk along the lake and about the park, we 
sat down in the park to rest and enjoy the 
beautiful things about us. There seemed to 
be seats and chairs scattered about for visit- 
ors, and as the chairs appeared the more 
comfortable, we took them. We had been 
seated but a few minutes when we were sur- 
prised to be addressed by a strange man, who, 
after rattling off a lot of stuff in French, 
handed us two small slips of paper. We had 



234 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

no idea whiat he was trying to say, and so 
took the slips and looked at them. After a 
while, by the nse of numerous gestures and 
more words, we gathered that he wanted to 
collect two cents apiece from us for the use 
of the chairs. We handed back the slips po- 
litely and walked away, and he made no> at- 
tempt to press the matter. 

I remember that we spent quite a good deal 
of time in the jewelry stores, which on ac- 
count of the large manufactories there are 
unusually large and attractive. The quan- 
tity and variety of watches was marvelous. 
All manner of pretty trinkets for decorating 
the hair and neck of the fair sex were dis- 
played. 

But we soon finished with Geneva and were 
off for Paris. 



235 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

PARIS AT LAST. TOMB OF NAPOLEON. THE VENUS. 
EXPERIENCES. 

My impressions of our visit to Paris are 
mixed. 

It goes without saying that this city formed 
one of the bright spots in anticipation. 
Whether it remains so in the retrospect is a 
question. We had heard so much of this won- 
derful city. From the time of my earliest rec- 
ollection I had heard it called the "magnifi- 
cent." Often had I gazed upon its scenes from 
the canvas of the stereopticon lecturer, and 
always with the keenest enjoyment. * * 
Then, as I had grown older, and learned some- 
thing of its strange, unusual and unique part, 
both in history and in fiction, I was filled with 
longing to visit the city in person and 
see for myself the places which I had 
so often heard described. Every one 
forms mental pictures. After the scene 
has become a reality nothing is more 
interesting than to compare the actual 

236 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

with the picture previously held in the 
mind. When I think of Paris now, I find that 
it is not as grand as my fancy had painted it. 
We reached Paris early in the morning, and 
as the train rolled into the station Ave hardly 
knew what to expect. We were soon in the 
midst of interesting and wonderful things, 
but on the whole the city was not as "magnifi- 
cent 1 ' as I had hoped to find it. The build- 
ings were not so white as I had supposed they 
were. While the streets were clean and wide, 
they were not more so than other places 
where we had been. And yet, after all, Paris 
is Paris, quite unlike any other place, al- 
though I am unable to tell wherein lies the 
difference. It ihslj be in the people who throng 
the boulevards, all night long, it seemed to us. 
It may be in the brilliancy of the stores, or 
in the beauty and variety of the architecture. 
But I am getting ahead of my story, and must 
go back a little. As soon as we had break- 
fasted we w^ent at once to the "Louvre," for 
we knew there would be so much to see there 
that we would do well to begin early. We 
did the best we could with the time and 
strength at our disposal. But I find, now that 
it is all over, that the Louvre of Paris means 



237 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

for me only one thing. This is the wonderful 
statue of the "Venus of Milo." The impres- 
sion made upon my mind by this one object 
so overbalanced that made by the other 
things that they sink out of sight in the re- 
trospect. We walked over miles of territory, 
and gazed upon acres of pictures, but every- 
thing seemed only an afterthought when com- 
pared with the statue. There were many busts 
of emperors, as in other galleries, but we 
hurried past them. I felt sure that the em- 
perors must be very valuable and interesting 
or there would not have been so many of 
them, but I do not remember seeing any one 
looking at them. 

By this time we had come to the "Venus." 
and I forgot everything else. One does not 
have to be coached up in order to enjoy this 
statue. It simply absorbs you from the in- 
stant you first rest your eyes uponi it. It 
stands all by itself in the center of a square 
hall, surrounded by an iron railing. I sup- 
pose this railing is placed there to prevent 
people from following out the natural im- 
pulse, of which I myself was conscious, to 
touch the marble, to see if it were not soft. 
This art work had always been a favorite of 

238 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

mine, but when in its actual presence I real- 
ized how far short of the original all the 
copies fell. The head, shoulders and breast 
are perfect, and Oh! how beautiful they are! 
I stood there and wondered, as doubtless hun- 
dreds have done before me, that cold marble 
could be made to look so much like warm 
flesh. And yet no head and neck were ever 
so perfect, no face of flesh was ever so finely 
cut, so delicate, so lovely! There was one 
position from which it was supremely beauti- 
ful, and in that position I took my seat and 
gazed until the fleeting moments reminded 
me that there were other things to be seen 
in Paris besides the "Venus of Milo," wonder- 
ful though it was. 

The history of the "Venus" is interesting. 
No one knows who made it, although there 
are all manner of theories about it, It was 
found in the year 1820 in the island of Milo, 
by some obscure person who* had no idea of 
its real value. As of course every one knows, 
both the arms are gone, and it has been im- 
possible for the critics to agree as to how they 
were placed. 

Passing from statuary to pictures, the mas- 
terpieces which I enjoyed most were collected 

239 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

in the room known as the "Hall Carre. " 
Among these was the "Immaculate Concep- 
tion," by Murilla The same characteristics 
were noticeable here as in the other works 
of this artist. There was the robe of dark 
blue over the under one of pure white. Also, 
the beautiful face of the Virgin and the deli- 
cately tinted atmosphere. There was the 
"Holy Family," by the same artist, in which 
the child stands in the mother's lap, holding a 
cross. The same tints prevail here as in the 
more famous pictures. I remember Da 
Vinci's "Mona Lisa," and the startling one 
by Paul Veronese called "Jupiter Punishing 
Crime." There were also a few by Michael 
Angelo and Raphael here. Next to the 
"Louvre" came the "Tomb of Napoleon." 
After having devoted a fair portion of our 
time to the pictures, we turned our steps 
toward this most wonderful sepulchre of this 
most wonderful man. The body of the great 
general lies directlv under the dome of a 
church which is a part of the building known 
as the "Hotel des Invalides." Napoleon 
died on the island of St. Helena in the year 
1821, but it was not until twenty years after 
that the then king of France, Louis Phillipe, 

240 






THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

secured his remains and laid them to rest 
under this magnificent dome. It appears that 
this "Hotel des Inyalides" had been partly 
planned by Napoleon himself as a home for 
maimed and superannuated soldiers, and is 
capable of holding five thousand of them. 
There are only a few hundred of them there 
now, to hot)ble about and gaze curiously at 
the multitudes who flock there to see the 
"Tonib." In order to see the tomb the visitor 
enters a rather small apartment which has 
the appearance of a chapel. The ceiling is 
high, and at one end there is a beautiful altar. 
The end containing the altar is set with col- 
ored glass of so peculiar a hue as to throw a 
soft, almost unreal light over the room and all 
it contains. The immense casket of solid 
brown granite, superbly polished, is seen by 
looking down into a circular opening in the 
center of the room. This casket is surrounded 
by marble figures of angels, who seem to be 
guarding in holy silence the last resting 
place of the man who in life never rested. 
The tomb of General Grant at Riverside, New 
York, is modeled after this tomb of Napoleon. 
I was impressed by the fact that the body of 
the great Frenchman lies entirely alone, 

241 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

while in the case of General Grant a similar 
casket bearing the name of his wife stands 
by the side of his own. The wife of our be- 
loved Washington at Mt. Vernon is honored 
in a similar manner. But as Napoleon never 
found a companion, although he had two 
wives and a large family connection, it is not 
to be wondered at that he lies solitary in his 
coffin. There were various little retreats and 
alcoves in different parts of the room where 
brothers and other relatives of Napoleon lie 
in elegant coffins. I realized how great it 
makes a person to have a famous relative, for 
no doubt few of these who share the general's 
honors in death would have been known to 
the world, but for this one famous member of 
the family. Many interesting things cluster 
about this building and the park in which it 
stands. The spirit of all who were there 
seemed to be one of great reverence for the 
personality of Napoleon. His very name was 
mentioned with awe and respect, I could not 
but think of the Duke of Wellington in his 
triple coffin under the dome of St. Paul's in 
London, and the cordiality of hatred with 
which the name of Napoleon was whispered 
there. 



242 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

How much the greatness or littleness of a 
man depends upon who is talking about him! 
We lingered about this spot for a long time, 
"looking backward" over the career of the 
man whose manifest presence there made 
this spot a rendezvous for people of all na- 
tions. 

After leaving this memorable spot we 
wished to secure a conveyance and ride to 
some distant portions of the city. With this 
intent we approached the long line of cabs 
which was drawn along the sidewalk and 
addressed the drivers in turn with "Parlez 
vous English?" After receiving a siad shake 
of the head from each one we finally resigned 
ourselves to trying to make a Frenchman 
understand what we wanted to do. We found 
it true, however, that a Frenchman "catches 
on," as the saying is, to the meaning of things 
even when he cannot understand the lan- 
guage better than the people of other coun- 
tries. He watches you closely while you are 
talking, and seems to infer what you want 
rather than understand the words. We came 
to appreciate this characteristic the more 
that we realized how limited was our vocabu- 
lary in the language of Paris: We drove first 



243 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

through the Exposition grounds. They were 
in a very unfinished condition, but the build- 
ings which even then were rising in their 
snowy whiteness gave promise of all manner 
of untold beauties. I remember that in one 
place they were making large blocks of a 







kind of soft white stone, and some of these 
blocks were being decorated with flowers and 
pictures of different kinds. The Exposition 
grounds seemed to stretch along for a great 



244 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

distance and to be rather narrow, but other- 
wise to be finely located. It was not far from 
here to the famous "Eiffel Tower." This 
monstrous triumph of mechanical engineer- 
ing is nearly a thousiand feet high, but as we 
stood under it and looked up (we did 
not desire to ascend to its dizzy eleva- 
tion), I could have believed that it was 
almost any height, so far away from 
us seemed its dizzy summit. It is named 
from its architect, Gustave Eiffel, and 
has now been standing there for eleven 
years. It seems that the cost of it was some 
millions of dollars, part of which was sup- 
plied by the French government. I wonder 
if they have "got their money back" out of 
the pockets of those venturesome individuals 
who crave the kind of excitement which 
comes from being suspended high in midair? 
After that Ave saw the "Place de la Con- 
cord." This is the place where the "Lady 
Guillotine" used to stand during the bloody 
days of the Revolution. All sorts of grue- 
some memories were aroused by the latter 
fact. But there is nothing about the spot as 
it appears today to indicate that events of so 
great moment in human history ever trans- 



245 



^ THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

pired there. It is called the central point of 
all that is grand and beautiful in Paris. In 
the center of the square is a tall circular shaft 
called the "Obelisk of Luxor." On each side 
of this is an elegant f ountain, while grouped 
about the outer edges are eight colossal stat- 
ues representing that nuany French cities. 
Everything which can be seen expresses what 
is expressed by the name, viz. : Peace. And 
yet I confess that I did not feel peaceful 
either in the "Place de la Concord" or any 
other place in Paris. The history of the 
French people has been long open to the 
world. Then, since we had been in Paris, 
very many buildings had been pointed out to 
us which had twice and thrice been pulled 
down by the mob, in the different revolu- 
tions, and there have been so many of them. 
So I felt sure that we could not be sure of 
anything. I admit that as we looked at the 
people whom we saw upon the streets and in 
the cars they did not look as if they were 
about to come at us and tear us limb from 
limb, as they had done to many unfortunate 
individuals in times not yet remote. Still I 
felt that we would better not do anything 
that would rouse them. 



246 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

While it is true that Paris seems like a 
happy city to the transient visitor, it has seen 
many unhappy clays, and I doubt not will see 
many more. One little incident, of which I 
will speak later, gave us just a hint of this. 



247 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



OHAPTEE XXIII. 

INTERESTING MONUMENTS. BOIS DE BOULOGNE. 
TUILLERIES. FRENCH MARKET. 

Besides the "Place de la Concord/' there 
are any number of squares scattered about 
the city of Paris which are interesting, both 
from the historical and artistic standpoint. 
After the one just referred to, the "Place de la 
Bastille" was the most interesting to me. As 
the name suggests, it is upon the site of the 
ancient fortress and prison of the Bastile, 
which was destroyed by the mob in 1789. A 
beautiful shaft stands in the center. It is 
called the "Column of July," and is one hun- 
dred and fifty feet high, and is surmounted by 
a statue of liberty. 

Then there is the square which contains the 
beautiful equestrian statue of Joan of Arc. 
This memorable woman is represented in full 
military regalia, and this lasting tribute to 
her memory cannot fail to add dignity to the 
place which she holds in history. The famous 
column in the Place Vendome which was 



248 



THE STORY OF A* EUROPEAN TOUR. 

erected by Napoleon I. to commemorate his 
victories over the Russians and Austrians in 
the year 1805, and afterwards pulled down 
and again restored, is plain but imposing. 

In another part of the city I was much im- 
pressed by the "Tower of St. Jacques/' which 
I understand was once a part of an old 
church. It is a beautiful gothic tower, situ- 
ated on the Rue de Rivoli, and is said to stand 
almost in the center of the city. Pascal used 
this tower for his experiments on atmospheric 
pressure. The view from its top is one of the 
best in the city. 

The Trocadero we saw at a distance. This 
prominent building was erected for the exhi- 
bition of 1878, and is noticeable for its posi- 
tion rather than its beauty. 

After this we drove through the "Bois de 
Boulogne/' that marvelous combination of 
natural and artificial beauty known all over 
the world in history and fiction. It lies di- 
rectly outside the city gates, and besides the 
drives and wooded portions, is said to contain 
several acres of artificial water. It is differ- 
ent from the parks of England, the gardens 
of Germany, and the villas of Italy, and yet I 
cannot tell just how, neither can I say that it 

249 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

is more beautiful than corresponding locali- 
ties in these other places. It is simply differ- 
ent. Much of the wooded portion is in the 
natural state, and affords a delightful resort 
for picnic parties of all sizes. There were so 
many people scattered through this park that 
I should have thought all Paris had gone to a 
picnic had it not been for the fact that we had 
just come from the city, and no one seemed to 
be gone. Men and women-. were loungingabout 
on the velvety grass and children played 
and frolicked and waded in the water and fed 
the birds which were swimming in the water. 
Then there were boys in white coats and caps 
selling most appetizing tarts and pies and 
other French dainties. The cab driver did 
not hurry his horse, and we were glad that he 
did not, for we had the more opportunity to 
enjoy the beauty and happiness through 
which we were passing. I remembered how 
many things of interest had occurred in this 
historic place. Important conferences have 
been held here by persons of the highest rank. 
Duels have been fought where the partici- 
pants were sometimes noble, sometimes ig- 
noble. Meetings have been planned here be- 
tween men and men, between women and 



250 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

women, and between men and women, some- 
times legal, and sometimes illegal. The first 
place which the Parisian thinks of when in 
deep trouble, as w r ell as in great joy, is this 
wonderful "Bois de Boulogne. " It was cer- 
tainly a memorable afternoon that we spent 
there, and we did not mind after all that the 
driver could not talk English, for we did not 
need him to interpret the beauties of nature 
upon which our eyes were feasting, and mem- 
ory and imagination supplied the rest. 

Then there was the ride back to Paris. We 
returned by the way of the magnificent tri- 
umphal arch. We did not ride through it, as 
we learned that ordinary foreigners (in which 
category w r e found ourselves), were not al- 
lowed to do so. I believe that it is only open 
upon special occasions. It is difficult for the 
visitor in Paris to get away from things which 
suggest Napoleon and this arch, said to be 
the grandest triumphal arch ever constructed 
in the world, is probably the most elaborate 
testimonial to him and his work which there 
is in existence. It is situated most delight- 
fully at one end of the beautiful Champs Ely- 
sees. It is modeled after the triumphal arches 
of Rome, but is said to be much finer than 



251 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

any of those were even in the days of Rome's 
greatest glory. It is a masterpiece of art, 
which well repays a careful amd extended 
study. There are medallions bearing the 
names of important battle fields^ and there 
are tablets upon which are portrayed the 
most important moments of victory of the 
great general. One of the most famous reliefs 
is the one upon which Napoleon is repre- 
sented as being crowned by Victory. It was 
begun .in 1806 and cost more than two mil- 
lions of dollars. From there we drove down 
the Champs Elysees. The street, or rather av- 
enue, which bears this most attractive name 
extends a distance of a mile and a half, con- 
necting the Arch of Triumph with the Place 
de la Concord. It is not so much of an "Ely- 
sian Field" as one would be led to think from 
the name, and the numerous descriptions of 
it which are to be found. It is a wide, clean 
street, and is so located that many fine views 
of Paris may be obtained from it. Pretty and 
inviting stores, cafes and restaurants are in 
evidence, and many fine carriages constantly 
roll back and forth. They have a way in Paris 
of making believe thing® are very fine, and in 
that way they succeed in impressing both 

252 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

themselves and other people that they are so. 
When I really see the "Elysian Fields" I do 
not expect to be in the city of Paris, and I also 
expect them to be quite different from any- 
thing which I saw there. 

Of course Paris has any number of fine and 
interesting churches, but as we were so 
crowded for time, we visited only the "Made- 
line." This is not an ancient church, as were 
so many which we had seen, but is famed on 
account of its beauty. It has been there for 
about one century, and is called* the "most 
magnificent of modern churches." It has a 
Corinthian portico, and the rows of pillars 
extending across the front remind the visitor 
of the old Parthenon at Athens. There is a 
beautiful sculptured pediment over the door. 
The decoration of the interior is most start- 
ling, but is very beautiful. Tlie statuary at- 
tracted me. There was a service while we 
were there, but people were kneeling in dif- 
ferent parts, performing their private devo- 
tions. As we passed out of the church, after 
having taken a few minutes to rest within its 
shadows, we linger&d to examine the bronze 
doors upon which are illustrated the ten com- 
mandments. I suppose that these doors are 

253 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

not so fine as the famous ones we saw in Italy, 
but to our unskilled eyes they were very beau- 
tiful and added wonderfully to the dignity 
and significance of the church which they 
adorn. 

The "Palace of the Tuilleries" is one of the 
sights of Paris which the modern visitor does 
not see. This magnificent building, which was 
for years the habitation of kings and emper- 
ors, stood in the midst of one of the most 
beautiful gardens which is to be found in 
Paris. But it avails us nothing at the present 
time to read the descriptions of its grandeur, 
for it was entirely destroyed by the Commune 
in the year 1871. What is that indescribable 
characteristic in human nature which impels 
people, when they are aroused, to tear down 
and destroy the most beautiful and inspiring 
things in the world? 

It is impossible to be in Paris even a few 
days and not experience a sensation of sad- 
ness at the many things of incalculable value 
which have been destroyed there to satisfy 
the passing frenzy of an excitable people. I 
found I had no idea of thre number of "revolu- 
tions" which there had been in Paris until I 
came to see the frequent references to them 

254 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

upon the places where they had taken place. 
And so it was with the "Palace of the Tuiller- 
ies." For a number of years after the Palace 
had been destroyed the ruins were allowed 
to remain there, an unhappy but truthful 
commentary upon the characteristics of the 
people of France. But now there is nothing 
to be seen but a part of the facade, which was 
originally a portion of the great rectangle of 
the Louvre. One feels the lack of something 
as he walks through the beautiful gardens, 
for it is bare and lonesome, being evident, as 
it is, that there was something there which is 
now gone. 

I remember that after having seen all that 
is left of the Tuilleries Ave rode past a num- 
ber of churches which are considered to be 
worthy of the attention of the sightseer, but 
they made little impression upon my mind, 
and I recall nothing about them except the 
"Notre Dame." The architecture of this is 
unusual, and we are told that the marriage 
ceremony of Napoleon and Josephine was per- 
formed there. We also passed the "Pan- 
theon," a building modeled after the struc- 
ture of that name in Rome, which has been 
the scene of many interesting events. Our 

255 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

attention was called to the beautiful front of 
the "Hotel de Ville." This building corre- 
sponds to a "City Hall" in our country, but in 
Paris everything is either a "palace" or a 
"hotel," so one must figure out for himself 
what they really are. We were interested to 
2CO through the "Palace of Justice" (often- 
times a "palace of injustice") which we would 
call a "Court House" here. This was a very 
elaborate and extended Court House. There 
was nothing being done there at the time, 
and many of the rooms were locked, so we 
could only go through the halls. But a woman 
who was cleaning let us in to one or two of 
the rooms, which corresponded to our court 
rooms. They were finely furnished with black 
walnut chairs, tables and handsome carpets. 
The next morning we were up bright and 
early, as w T e had planned that day to visit the 
far famed "French Market." I suppose that 
most Americans have seen these markets in 
miniature in our own cities, but it is evident 
there is only one French market. There is 
an immense one in New York, and a typical 
One in New Orleans, but they were tiny things 
compared with the Paris market, We had 
been advised that it was best to be on the 



256 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

ground early, and we found ourselves on hand 
while the great loads of provisions were still 
being brought in. Imagine, if possible, acres 
and acres of eatables, all spread out upon 
open booths, protected only by a roof over- 
head. Each different kind of provisions was 
in a department by itself, covering, I should 
think, about a block apiece. We first came to 
the part occupied by the meats. There was 
stretched out in all imaginable shapes and 
forms portions of beef, pork, veal, mutton and 
sausage, of many kinds. Then came one im- 
mense tract devoted exclusively to poultry; 
then another containing only fish; there were 
small fish and large fish, live fish and dead 
fish; salt fish and fresh fish; shell fish and 
eels. Then came the vegetables. Most of 
them were fresh, and they retained the look of 
having just been gathered. Then there was a 
whole block of berries, most tempting and 
luscious. Then butter and eggs, and after 
that the cheese. I never supposed there was 
so much cheese in the world as I saw that 
day in the French market. I cannot realize 
that there were people enough anywhere to 
eat it all. There was French cheese, and 
Dutch cheese, and German cheese, and Eug- 

257 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

lish cheese, and Swiss cheese, and American 
cheese, and other kinds of cheese. The Paris- 
ians are certainly not exclusive in the matter 
of cheese. I do not know why I was so deeply 
impressed with the exhibit of cheese, but that 
display has seemed to stand out more clearly 
in my mind than any other. I ought, how- 
ever, to except the flowers, for nothing could 
exceed the beauty and fragrance of that part 
of the market which was devoted to them. 
All kind^s of the richest, freshest, brightest 
and most delicate of posies blossomed side by 
side. Although the flowers were a delight to 
the aesthetic sense, it is true that all parts of 
the market w ere clean, sweet and savory. It 
seemed hardly possible that so much foodstuff 
could be exposed with so little that was un- 
pleasant. Then, besides the wares which were 
on sale, there were the people to look at. 
Among the buyers the women were largely in 
the majority. With smiling morning faces 
and large market baskets these French 
women tripped about from one stall to an- 
other, selecting just enough for one meal, and 
by their very manner suggesting what a 
dainty meal it was likely to be. I felt myself 
that it would be a long time before I should 

258 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

want anything to eat, and it seemed as if 
what w T e had seen that morning would last 
the whole world for several meals, - But prob- 
ably before noon had arrived the food there 
was distributed among the kitchens of Paris, 
and even then there were those who would go 
hungry. 



259 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

LATE HOURS ON THE BOULEVARDS. CHARACTERISTIC 
STREET INCIDENT. SHOPPING IN PARIS. 

That evening we started out for a walk. 
We selected for our itinerary one of the most 
famous boulevards of this city of attractive 
boulevards. That is an evening which I shall 
never forget. Although it was quite late when 
we reached the thoroughfare, the people were 
just beginning to crowd in. There was one 
long mass of dazzling light, with places here 
and there of even greater brilliancy. These 
latter were where the jewelry stores with 
windows fairly flashing with diamonds of- 
fered an attraction which was absolutely irre- 
sistible. But after a while we grew tired of 
the diamonds, brilliant and costly though 
they were, and turned our undivided atten- 
tion to the people. In the first place, there 
were many more of them than when we had 
first arrived. And how they were enjoying 
themselves! Many of the buildings with doors 
wide open into the streets were music halls or 



260 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

drinking halls, or something of that nature. 
They were all brilliantly lighted, and) the 
walk in front and sometimes even the street 
itself was filled with tables and chairs. Music 
was wafted out of the windows and doors, 
and w T e caught fleeting glimpses of girls in 
white dresses and colored ribbons who were 
sometimes playing upon musical instruments 
and sometimes singing. All kinds of drinks 
were passed among the people sitting at the 
tables, that is, they were all kinds of colors. 
We walked on anlcl on and it grew later and 
later, but no one there seemed to think of 
going home. Indeed, the later grew the hour 
(or rather the earlier, for it was past midnight 
by this time), the larger grew the crowds. 
Men, women and children sat there and 
drank. Most of them were in groups, evidently 
families and friends, but sometimes we could 
distinguish a solitary man sitting and drink- 
ing all alone with head bowled down, lonely 
among a crowd of people. But one thing was 
evident. These people who sat there and 
drank and chatted and laughed long past the 
midnight hour, under those bright lights, 
were happy. At least they were happy that 
night. As happy as the day, or, rather, the 



261 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

night, was long. At least they were happy 
then. I cannot vouch for their feelings the 
next day. After we had walked until we were 
tired we thought we would take a 'bus back 
to the place where we had started. We had 
of course discovered by this time that the 
'buses of Paris had seats upon the top similar 
to those in London. There is, however, one 
difference which is greatly to the disadvant- 
age of the sightseer in Paris. In Paris the 
seats run the long way of the 'bus, while in 
London they run the short way. The result is 
that in Paris it is impossible to see but one 
side of the street at a time, while in London 
a complete view r for a long distance may be 
enjoyed. It was upon this ride that we ex- 
perienced a "scare." I have spoken of my feel- 
ing of uncertainty upon the Paris streets be- 
fore, and perhaps there was just a touch of 
satisfaction in finding that the feeling was 
not entirely without justification. There hap- 
pened to be a portion of the street which was 
under repair, so that the thoroughfare was 
only about half the ordinary width. Part of 
this diminished space was taken up by a row 
of cabs, which stood along the sidew T alk. Be- 
sides all this, I remember that there were a lot 



262 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

of people walking along the street, thus mak- 
ing it extremely difficult for the 'bus driver to 
make his way along. It transpired that; one 
of the cabs became wedged directly in front 
of the 'bus upon which we were riding, and 
seemingly the driver of it was not making any 
effort to extricate himself. We were suddenly 
startled to see the driver of the 'bus lift his 
whip and strike the cab driver across the face. 
• The 'bus driver whipped his horses right 
through the people in front of him, and the 
cab driver gathered up his reins and followed 
in hot pursuit. Soon the two vehicles were 
abreast (no requests of passengers to be al- 
lowed to get down being heeded), and the 
drivers were lashing each other with whips 
and tongues as well. In much less time than 
it takes me to tell it a howling mob had gath- 
ered, all of them excited and demonstrative. 
I have confessed that it was interesting, at 
first, but it soon passed that point, aaad was 
terrible. There was no sign of a policeman 
anywhere, and we did not know when they 
might begin to shoot or pounce upon each 
other in hand to hand conflict. We took ad- 
vantage of the temporary stop to jump down 
from the 'bus, plunge through the ever in- 

263 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

creasing crowd and get away as fast as pos- 
sible. I never learned how it turned out, and 
possibly things of that kind are so common 
that no one takes any notice of them. I can- 
not, however, conceive of such a thing hap- 
pening upon the streets of London, although 
they are so crowded. There it is impossible to 
get out of sight of the ever vigilant policeman, 
whose very presence seems to inspire awe and 
order in the hearts of all. After the excite^ 
ment was all over, and we strolled back to 
our hotel through the "Palace de POpera," 
we found the people still sitting about the 
little tables on the streets, still drinking, and 
the music still floating out of the open doors. 
I should like to have stayed right there as 
long as the rest did, just to see how long that 
would be, but the weariness of the flesh mani- 
fested itself to such a degree that we hastened 
our steps and saw no more of "Gay Paris" for 
that night. 

We spent a large share of the next day in 
visiting the stores, otherwise shopping. In 
all of the cities w T hich we visited, and espe- 
cially in Paris, I was much interested in the 
stores. (I have a theory that national charac- 
teristics are displayed in shop windows.) But 

264 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

up to that time we had made but few- pur- 
chases, on account of not wishing to be laden 
with superfluous baggage. But as Paris w r as 
so near our journey's end, we ventured to in- 
dulge, in a small way, our oft repressed de- 
sires. We discovered that there were very 
fine stores upon the Rue de Eivoli, and it was 
w r ithin this thoroughfare that we spent our 
remaining time and money. We visited a 
number of small stores, but it was at one very 
large emporium that we were impressed in 
several ways. It was not entirely the display 
of goods which attracted me, although it was 
very fine, but it was the marvelous order and 
regularity which prevailed throughout the 
entire building. The first thing we asked 
when we entered the store was for an English 
speaking clerk. He w^as produced without 
any delay or confusion. He found out what 
w r e wanted and delivered us into the hands of 
another person who understood our language. 
He (or she) passed us on to the next, never 
leaving us to winder about and waste time 
trying to make people understand us who 
could not, until w T e had completed our pur- 
chases. This sounds very simple and easy 
as I write it, and even quite unneces- 

265 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUH. 

sary. to relate as an experience. But 
after having struggled with people who 
could not understand us, in stores where 
nothing but French was spoken, our 
treatment here really was noteworthy. There 
were several different floors, and upon each 
floor were several different departments, and 
each department was full of a hurrying, scur- 
rying mass of people, all talking very fast and 
very loud in a language unintelligible to us, 
and it means a good deal that we accom- 
plished our shopping with less inconvenience 
than we should have experienced in one of 
the larger stores of New York or Chicago. 

But it was the final event in the shopping 
experience which rendered me the most grate- 
ful for the order and system which prevailed. 
After the last purchase had been made the 
young lady who waited upon me conducted 
me to the cashier's desk, where I received my 
bill. The cashier could not speak English, 
but figures are the same in French. I glanced 
over the bill hurriedly, too hurriedly as it ap- 
peared, and paid it. As I was wending my 
way to the outer door I scanned the items 
more closely, and found that I had paid ten 
dollars too much. I did not care to lose that 



266 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

amount of money, and so turned and tried to 
find my way back to the desk. I vms annoyed 
to discover that it was nowhere to be seen, 
and no one who was near me just then under- 
stood me when I asked to be directed to it. 
I wandered back and forth for several anx- 
ious minutes, and finally found myself in one 
of the departments wiiere I had been before, 
and saw the clerk who had waited on me 
there. She conducted me to the desk of a 
cashier, but to my surprise it was not the one 
I wanted, and he knew nothing about the cir- 
cumstances. She then very patiently con- 
ducted me through a labyrinth of counters, 
customers and clerks, and in good time 
brought me to the place where I had paid the 
money. As soon as the man saw me, and with 
no surprise or confusion, he handed me the 
ten dollars, which had been lying upon the 
desk beside him. He explained to the clerk 
who had been my conductor that he had dis- 
covered his mistake at once, and knew that i 
would soon be back for the money. He never 
knew how I had wavered before going back, 
or how near he had come to being ten dollars 
ahead that night. 

Among the many interesting short excur- 
sions to be made in the neighborhood of Paris, 

267 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

we selected the one to Versailles. As I look 
back over ft now, every moment of that day is 
packed with interest. Versailles is fourteen 
miles from Paris, and the principal object of 
attraction is the palace which has been used 
as a home by many of the kings and queens 
of France. We went out by tram car, and the 
method of getting aboard was quite exciting. 
There was a great crowd waiting to get on, 
and we looked for a great rush and jam. But 
it was not so. We saw T other people buying 
tickets, and so we bought sonie, not under- 
standing why they were so conspicuously 
numbered. When the train drew up we dis- 
covered the use of the numbers. There were 
half a dozen cars, and people enough waiting 
to fill twice that number. There was no push- 
ing or jamming, and the crowd stood quietly 
until the conductor began to call the num- 
bers, beginning with "one." The person who 
held the ticket marked "one" came forward 
and took a seat in the car. Number two came 
next, and so on until all of the cars were filled 
and the train rolled away, and those who were 
left awaited the coming of the next one. There 
were all kinds of family parties getting off at 
the different parks along the way, and it was 

268 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

not difficult to tell where Paris spent its Sun- 
days. (I think I omitted to say that it was 
Sunday.) Some very peculiar characteristics 
of the French people were displayed upon this 
occasion. We found that the palace was not 
open until one o'clock, so we proceeded to ex- 
amine the grounds which surround it, and a 
delightful experience it proved. If beautiful 
surroundings can make people happy, then 
the kings and queens of France who have 
lived at the palace of Versailles must have 
added greatly to the great sum of human hap- 
piness. The general average of the great de- 
sideratum must have been decidedly raised 
by their experiences here. Flowers, fount- 
ains, trees and terraces, shady paths and 
sunny slopes, all arranged in the most de- 
lightful manner possible. The best of it all 
was that this was all open and free to any 
who cared to enter. Many had availed them- 
selves of the privilege, and groups and parties 
sat under the trees or strolled among the 
fountains. 

I have several times referred to the many 
things in and about Paris which are associ- 
ated with the name and history of Napoleon. 
Above all other places, the spirit of this great 



269 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

man rests upon the palace of Versailles. The 
halls and galleries are full of paintings illus- 
trating the history of France, and, as can be 
imagined, the quondam emperor played no 
small part here. Then, there are few things 
in all Europe which impressed me more than 
did the wonderful statue by Vela, represent- 
ing Napoleon in his dying hour. It is not 
often that an artist is able to # catch a moment 
in the life of a man which tells so much of 
history, not only of the mian himself, but of 
the times in which he lived. Napoleon holds 
in his hand the map of Europe. So delicate 
has been the hand of the artist upon the mar- 
ble that the very posture of that once magnifi- 
cent head and body now clearly reveal weak- 
ness and despair. I was impressed with the 
fact that the map of Europe and Napoleon 
had not always stood in the relation which 
they did at that moment of his life. As we 
left France the next day, that was the last 
we saw of Napoleon. There were many other 
fine things in the palace, but it would take 
too long to tell about them. The return ride 
to Paris upon the top of the car, at nightfall, 
completed the day. Prominent among the 
impressions retained of this ride was the 



270 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

large number of bicycle riders who were re- 
turning to Paris at the same time. The num- 
ber of women surpassed that of the men, and 
in each case the former were dressed in the 
Turkish costume, which style of dress seemed 
to be the most popular as a bicycle costume 
for ladies throughout France. I noticed that 
the ladies all rode what is known with us as 
a "man's wheel." 



271 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

ENOUGH OF PARIS. ON TO -SCOTLAND. MELROSE AND 
ABBOTSFORD. 

I have heard it said that no one ever leaves 
Paris except with reluctance. That we were 
an exception to this rule nmy have been be- 
cause by this time our minds were weary with 
seeing, or possibly because our faces were set 
towards home, the thought of which grew 
each day more attractive. For whatever rea- 
son it may have been, I remember that we 
were very happy that morning when, having 
put carefully on the new hats purchased in 
our recent shopping expedition, we said 
"goodbye" to Paris and boarded the train 
which took us to the seaport of Dieppe. Here 
we took the channel steamer, which, after a 
ride of a few hours, brought us literally "to 
our desired haven," In this case it was the 
city of "New Haven,"' on the southeast shore 
of England. At first I thought I was going to 
be delighted to be upon the water again. But 
I soon found that I was obliged to exert all 

272 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

my powers of mind to keep from being sea- 
sick, and this state of mind, or rather of 
body, is entirely too uncertain to admit of any 
pleasurable feelings. I saw more evidences of 
seasickness upon this short voyage than upon 
the trip across the Atlantic. I understand that 
this experience is common, though no one has 
explained the cause of it, I shall never forget 
how delightful it was to set foot upon the 
shores of England again, and London, al- 
though our stay there had been so short, 
seemed like home. After existing for a num- 
ber of weeks amidst a jargon of German, Ital- 
ian and French and mixtures of theni all, the 
peculiar accent of the English, which had so 
offended my ear when I first heard it, sounded 
like music. I could understand it much bet- 
ter than at first, and was more patient with 
the people who did not understand me. I can 
imagine that the idea of an American not be- 
ing able to understand "English" will seem 
quite ridiculous to- those who have not heard 
the language a® spoken by 'bus drivers, por- 
ters and similar personages. But, as I men- 
tioned once before, we had been initiated into 
"Hoxfud" (Oxford) street, and also "Obun" 
(Holborn) street, and a few other localities of 

273 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

equal importance, and so managed nicely. 
There was still one more country to be visited 
before we saw our native shores. Our last 
week abroad was devoted to a tour of some of 
the picturesque portions of "Bonnie Scot- 
land." During this part of the journey I was 
entirely alone. But I had many opportunities 
to discover that a woman does not fare the 
worse for being alone among Scotch people. 
I often felt lonesome, but never afraid. I re- 
member that I hesitated about starting out 
upon this solitary tour, as I was so weary 
with sightseeing that it seemed possibly best 
to spend the week which remained before sail- 
ing for home in a quiet rest in London. I can 
never be thankful enough that I did not yield 
to this momentary paralysis of my enthu- 
siasm for travel, for those last days stand out 
in my journey as green and fresh as were the 
banks of the romantic "Loch Katrine." It is 
true, as has been said before, that "in Scot- 
land heroism and romance go hand in hand." 
The spirit of Wallace and Bruce seem to rest 
upon the green hills and deserted castles. 

Melrose Abbey has long been counted as 
one of the interesting things in Scotland. Ac- 
cordingly, the town of the same name was my 

274 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

first stopping place after crossing the English 
border. I reached there at seven o'clock in 
the evening, and as there was some light left, 
I asked to be directed to the Abbey at once. 
The ruin is surrounded by a fence, the en- 
trance gate of which was unlocked for me by 
a young woman who seemed to be on the 
lookout for tourists. This young woman acted 
as a guide about the building, and was ex- 
tremely anxious to have me notice everything 
which it was evident other people had en- 
thused over. But every one knows that you 
cannot enthuse when you are expected to do 
so, and besides this, I was embarrassed to find 
that in spite of my experience in England, it 
was difficult for me to understand what she 
was saying on account of her broad Scotch 
accent. There is very little left of the Abbey 
besides the bare walls; that is, the walls 
which would be bare except for the profuse 
growth of vines which entirely cover some 
portions of them. Grass grows upon the floor, 
except where paths have been made by the 
feet of travelers. There was a heap of stones 
in the center of the building, and one well 
worn stone was pointed out as being the place 
where Walter Scott used to sit and write. 



275 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Then the girl told me that the heart of Robert 
Bruce was buried there, and she also pointed 
out the grave of the "mighty Douglas/' and 
that of the wizard, Michael Scott. By this 
time it was deep twilight, amd as another per- 
son had come in, and was occupying the at- 
tention of my guide, I stepped out all alone 
into the little graveyard which is considered a 
regular part of this historic spot. The night 
Avas damp, and the grave stones were green 
with the mold of centuries, and the spirit of 
the wizard whose grave I had just seen 
seemed to haunt the place. But as ghosts 
have never bothered me as much as some 
other things have, I managed to enjoy my 
little stroll through the old churchyard, even 
though the associations were a trifle uncanny. 
Abbotsford, the long time home of Walter 
Scott, lies three miles from Melrose. I started 
early the next morning to make the journey 
thither on foot. Of course, it would have been 
quicker to ride, but there are many things 
about a walk which are interesting, and as 
time permitted this method of reaching the 
place, I concluded to adopt it. It turned out 
most favorably. The hoiuse and grounds of 
Abbotsford are surrounded by a high wall, 



276 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

so that only the top of the house may be seen 
from the outside, and that not to good ad- 
vantage. The house faces the little river 
Tweed, and the grounds run down to it. The 
entrance, as one comes from Melrose, is at the 
rear. The visitors are not allowed to go out 
of the house into the grounds, and on this ac- 
count it is impossible to see the outside of the 
house at all. I was glad that I knew some- 
thing of how it looked from pictures which 1 
had seen before I left home. I went down the 
walk, and entered what seemed to> have 
been the kitchen when the house was used for 
a home. Now it is fitted up with tables and 
counters, upon which are placed pictures, 
books and other souvenirs to attract the visi- 
tor. Here one pays his shilling and waits un- 
til enough people have come in to make it 
worth while for a guide to show them through 
the house. 1 was most interested in the 
library. There stands the desk and chair 
which were used by the great novelist while 
preparing the manuscript of his most famous 
books. His favorite books line the shelves, 
and a number of things about the place indi- 
cate the peculiar tastes of the author. It 
seems that Scott was a great trophy collector, 



277 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

and one room is devoted 1 exclusively to the 
exhibition and preservation of things which 
he had treasured daring his lifetime. Some 
of these things are of much intrinsic value, 
while others are only valuable because he 
cared for them. There were keys and swords, 
and hunting paraphernalia of all kinds. Belts 
and buckles and shoes were artistically 
grouped upon the wall. The last suit which 
Scott wore was displayed in a glass case. I 
learned that the house is now owned by a 
granddaughter of Scott, who does not care to 
occupy it, but is willing to keep it up for the 
revenue which it brings to her, As I was 
leaving the house I took it upon myself to re- 
monstrate with the person in authority be- 
cause he did not allow anyone to go out into 
the garden and see the house from the out- 
side. A pleasant elderly looking Scotch gen- 
tleman who had come in since I had, over- 
heard the conversation, and stepping up, said 
he thought he could help me. If I would join 
his party, which consisted of himself, one 
other gentleman and two ladies, I would be 
able to see the house quite well from the out- 
side. I accepted the invitation most gladly, 
and as they were walking too, we were soon 

278 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

upon the way. I found them delightful com* 
pany. I remember that among other things 
Ave talked theology, and after a while they 
discovered that I was an American. (I do not 
know whether niy theology had an American 
coloring, or whether it was my accent, which 
seems quite as peculiar to them as theirs did 
to me.) They were intensely interested 1 in this 
country, and asked innumerable questions 
about it, especially the women. None of them 
had traveled here, but they knew friends who 
had done so, and knew that it was a very fine 
place. By that time I was so homesick that I 
could hardly speak of my own country with- 
out choking, and it is siaf e to say that America 
lost none of her fair reputation with those 
good Scotch people on that walk. I was walk- 
ing with strangers in a strange land, and be- 
cause they were good to me, I longed more 
ardently for my own friends at home. I never 
learned their names, but I shall not soon for- 
get them. We walked about a half a mile, 
and then turned off .the road into a field. We 
soon came to the bank of the Tweed. Here 
they called and waved umbrellas, and a boy 
came dow T n to the opposite bank and rowed a 
boat across for us. This seemed to be an un- 



279 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

derstood thing, and the fare was a penny. I 
enjoyed paying out that penny as much as 
anything I ever did. Following the directions 
given me by my new friends, after saying 
goodbye to them I walked along a beautiful 
road upon the bank of the river opposite Ab- 
botsford, from which I obtained a fine view 
of the house and its surroundings. I soon 
came to a small town to which I had been 
directed, and returned to Melrose by rail. 

The next stop after Melrose was at Edin- 
borough. I had quite a jaunt about the city 
before I secured a hotel. I had been directed 
to one, but that was full, and the second one 
was full, and I tried the third before being 
successful. I met with the best of treatment 
from every one, and I learned a good deal 
about the city. The place where I finally 
stayed was a rather small Temperance hotel, 
kept by two women, who seemed to do most 
of the work themselves, and who made it very 
pleasant and homelike. T had to press my 
suit a little in order to get in here. When "I 
did succeed it was by persuading them to let 
me have a bed in a room already occupied by 
two young English ladies. We got on very 
nicely, however, and became the best of 



280 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

friends. They lived in Bristol, England, and 
were going for a trip to the north of Scotland. 
One of them had had a fall, and they were 
waiting in Edinborough until she should be 
well enough to go on. But the other one and 
myself had several nice walks, and the next 
day went to church together. 

They, like the Scotch people of the former 
experience, were very much interested w hen 
they found that I came from America, and lis- 
tened eagerly to all that I said of that won- 
derful country, which I trust I did not paint 
in rosier colors than it deserved. To them it 
seemed a long way to come "just to see the 
sights. " I never learned the young ladies' 
names nor told them mine. That evening I 
walked about the city alone. I went up 
Prince's Street, and visited the shops full of 
bright Scotch plaid things. The beautiful me- 
morial to Walter Scott, known as the "Wav- 
erly Monument," is here. This was designed 
by John M. Kemp, and is a magnificent 
Gothic structure, two- hundred feet in height. 
Sir Walter sits in the center, holding a book, 
while one of his favorite dogs lies at his feet. 
The castle rises conspicuously in the center 
of the town, giving the impression of rugged 
strength. 

281 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Perhaps the most unique experience of the 
trip was the Sunday I spent in Edinborough. 
If one does not wish to stay until Monday 
morning, he should not arrive here on Satur- 
day night. No trains run in or out of the city 
on Sunday, no street cars are used, no meals 
can be obtained except at the regular hotels, 
as the restaurants are closed. There is really 
nothing to do but go to church. It was about 
eight o'clock in the morning when I went out 
onto the street, and the stillness was that of 
a country lane. I remember that the silence 
was slightly broken by the footsteps of two 
clerical looking gentlemen, who were hurry- 
ing along with Bibles under their arms, evi- 
dently a little late for an early service. Then 
a solitary milk wagon came jolting along. I 
wondered where the people were who in other 
places were thronging the tram cars and su- 
burban railway stations, fairly fighting to se- 
cure a place. I did not have to wait long to 
discover where they were. In a brief time the 
streets were thronged with people, hurrying 
somewhere, and joining the crowd, I found 
that they were pouring into the churches. At 
half-past nine I attended the now famous 
"military service" in the historic church of St. 

282 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Giles, the oldest church in Edinborough. It 
was good to see a cathedral packed with wor- 
shipers from front to rear. The body of the 
church was entirely filled with the soldiers, 
While the citizens and visitors occupied the 
wings. The soldiers came filing in dressed in 
their scarlet coats, plaid scarfs and kilts, and 
looked very picturesque. The service was 
that of the Church of England, conducted 
very simply. The minister was straightfor- 
ward, almost stern. The service closed with 
the singing of "God Save the Queen." I re- 
member that before the hymn was finished 
some persons in the rear of the room began to 
move about and to leave the church. Sud- 
denly every one was startled by a loud voice 
from the pulpit exclaiming: "Sit. ye down. 
Oanna ye keep quiet w T hile her Majesty's 
hymn is being sung?" I rather liked the 
spirit of the minister's remarks, especially as 
I had been mentally supplying the words, 
"My Country, Tis of Thee." Then came the 
hurried walk across the bridge to where the 
Established and Free Churches of Scotland 
are located. I attended the services at the 
one called "Free St. George." I was impressed 
by the air of quiet reverence which pervaded 

283 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

it. The service was similar to that of the 
Congregational Church of America, only 
somewhat longer. The only noticeable differ- 
ence was the plain black gown of the minis- 
ter. But the morning spent among the 
churches was not more interesting than the 
afternoon spent among the hills. "Of course 
you must go to Calton Hill," some one had 
said who was familiar with the city. Accord- 
ingly, to Calton Hill I wended my way. It is 
a rocky eminence of some three hundred and 
fifty feet, lying towards the eastern part of 
the city. It is crowned with a grassy sum- 
mit, and although there are no shade trees it 
seemed to be a favorite rendezvous for people 
of all classes. It contains monuments to Brit- 
ish and Scotch heroes, notably Nelson and 
Burns. Its most interesting feature is the 
fine view of the city and its surroundings to 
be obtained from its summit. A short walk 
to the east brings you to "Holy Rood Palace." 
This building is closed to the public on Sun- 
day, so I could not see the interior, and so had 
to content myself with a walk around it, but 
so many unusual things have happened there 
that I enjoyed doing that. It was here in 
Queen Mary's apartment that Rizzio was mur- 



284 



THE STORY OF A ECROPEAN TOUR. 

dered, and they say his blood still stains the 
floor. Charles I. was crowned here in 1633. 
A portion of the palace was built by Charles 
II,, and Lord Darnley lies buried in the royal 
vault by the side of a number of Scotland's 
kings and queens. I walked on until I came 
to Salisbury Craggs, and still farther to the 
mountain called "Arthur's Seat." The moun- 
tain, by the way, must have been a most un- 
comfortable seat for this popular king, for a 
climb to its summit revealed only a rough, 
rugged expanse of red sand stone. Many 
hundreds of people were strolling about these 
places, although I could hardly see what was 
there to attract them. Some were in family 
groups, others in couples, and others, like my- 
self, entirely alone. I noticed with surprise 
that nothing of any kind was offered for sale, 
and no amusement of any kind was indulged 
in aside from walking and talking. No band 
music broke the Sabbath stillness, no merry- 
go-round with gorgeous trappings and dolor- 
ous music attracted the children, who seemed 
perfectly content to roll upon the grass or 
frolic quietly. No white aproned waiters un- 
der gay canopies dispensed even the mildest 
of drinks. The people of Edinborough seemed 



285 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

to be perfectly satisfied to enjoy the bright 
skies and clear air in this simple way. 

The climb to the top of "Arthur's Seat" was 
the climax of the afternoon. It is- 822 feet 
high, and I was told that; upon clear days 
you could see the great "Forth Bridge/' 
which is thirteen miles away, and is the sec- 
ond largest bridge in the world. But when I 
reached there a dense cloud had settled down 
upon everything, and I even seemed to« be 
sitting on a cloud. A return to the city in the 
gloaming revealed the people gathered to- 
gether in groups upon the different streets, 
listening to the street, preachers. It seemed 
from this that all the people did not go to 
church after all. But even the unwilling ones 
were not to escape gospel exhortation. The . 
crowds about the speaker were quiet and re- 
spectful and attentive, and all tendency to 
flippancy and covert ridicule was absent. 
Upon my return to the hotel I was addressed 
by a matronly Scotch lady as follows: "Did 
ye hear the preachin' ? Wasn't it gude ■?" 

I finished up the day with another church 
service, and went back to the hotel ponder- 
ing over the reason why Sunday in Edinbor- 
ough was so different from a Sunday in Con- 
tinental cities. 

286 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

STIRLING CASTLE. THE TROSSACHS. EXPERIENCES. 
GLASGOW. HOME. 

It was very early on Monday morning that 
I said "goodbye'' to the friends whom I had 




found at the hotel in Edinborough, and 
started upon my journey again. My first stop 
was to be at the old town of Stirling, where 



287 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

I wanted to visit the famous castle. Castles 
seem to have worn better than cathedrals did, 
for we never lost an opportunity to visit a 
castle, while the cathedrals had long since 
lost their charm. Possibly it was because 
there is more individuality about a castle 
than there is about a cathedral. 

When we reached Stirling I left my valise 
at the station, and tugged up a long hill to the 
castle! I found it there, just as it had been 
described, only more picturesque. At the 
present time the castle is used as a soldiers' 
barracks, and old soldiers linger about the 
place- to act as guides, pointing out interest- 
ing points and explaining historical points. 
Stirling Castle is a natural fortress. The hill 
upon which it stands rises on one side for a 
distance of four hundred anjd twenty feet in 
solid perpendicular rock. Above this rises the 
castle wall. The descent on the other side of 
the hill is more gradual, and in the diays of 
the castle's activity approach from this side 
was cut off by means of a wide moat. It 
stands substantially today as it did in the 
days of the Stuarts, only that the great draw- 
bridge is never lifted, and the ponderous 
gates are not closed. One of the first things 



& 



286 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

which was shown to me was the cell where 
prisoners were kept. The walls were of bare 
stone, and the floor w r as of dirt. In one corner 
was a circular opening, which the guide ex- 
plained to me was the "torture chamber." It 
was just large enough for a man to stand u\> 
right in. A large pipe ran up through it. The 
prisoner was put in there and the pipe heated, 
and he w T as left there to suffer. Not always 
until the point of death was reached, but until 
he was considered sufficiently punished. This 
was the cell, so the guide declared, where 
Roderick Dhu was cast, after his unfortunate 
duel with Fitz James, and here it was where 
the Highland chief breathed his last. Then 
there was the room where James V. was born, 
and the garden where his mother walked and 
played with him. There was the "Douglas" 
room, where James and the Earl of Douglas 
had their famous quarrel. The story is that 
the House of Douglas was always too strong 
to suit the mind of the Stuart kings. Almost 
strong enough to have their own way, and in- 
clined to do so. Upon one occasion James II. 
invited the powerful baron to Stirling Castle 
for a conference. But the fiery temper of the 
Stuarts got the better of him, and when Wil- 

289 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

liam did not come to his terms he stabbed the 
noble and trusting guestj and threw his body 
out of the window. It goes without saying 
that this act is Considered a blot upon the fail 4 
name of the castle. From the outer wall of 
the castle there is an extended and remark^ 
able view. The Elver Forth is seen With ita 
multiplicity of windings, also the Wallace 
monument and the Bridge of Allan. The 
Field of Bannockburn lies in the distance. 
The famous mountains of Scott's "Lady of the 
Lake/' known as "Ben Lomond/' "Ben Ve- 
nue/' "Ben Ledi" and others, may all be seen 
upon a clear day. But although the sun shone 
brightly a heavy mist hung upon the horizon, 
and every one of the "Bens" were completely 
hidden. The old guide regaled me with many 
interesting bits of Scotch history during the 
hour which I spent upon this historic spot. 
He had plenty of material upon which to 
draw, for volumes of it were made right here. 
It was here that the beautiful "Mary Queen 
of Scots" was crowned, and it w T as her home 
for many years. There was one particular 
corner of the wall to which she used to betake 
herself with her sewing or embroidery, and, 
through an opening made for the purpose, 



290 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

look down upon the games which were taking 
place below, seeing, but not being seen. Stir- 
ling Oastle has never yielded to a bombard- 
ment. Whenever it did yield it was to a pro- 
tracted siege, as the difficulty of securing 
water made it particularly suspectible in this 
direction. "But," added the guide, after re- 
lating the above circumstances, "if the guns 
they have now were turned upon it, it would 
only take about half an hour to shave it off as 
clean as a bald head." From Stirling I went 
by rail to the village of Callender, and here 
the interesting part began. The plan was to 
go through the "Trossaehs," and I had formed 
very little idea of how it was going to be. So, 
when I alighted from the cars at Callender, 
and walked through the station to where the 
coaches were in waiting, J was not prepared 
for the sight which met my eyes. There w x ere 
six or eight of the great mountain coaches 
drawn up there, each one having four horses 
attached to it. I cannot describe them better 
than to say that they were "big shiny ones." 
The first story was a large wagon box, which 
held the baggage. High above that were the 
seats. There were five seats on each coach, 
and each held four persons. I scrambled up 

291 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the ladder, which is a necessary accompani- 
ment of this style of conveyance, the coaches 
soon filled, and we were off. I felt as I imag- 
ine one would feel (I have had no experience 
myself) riding in the band wagon of a circus 
procession. The horses were fine, the roads 
superb, and the driver lost no time in making 
the distance. Before we reached the first stop- 
ping place I decided that one can never tell 
what he is going to do when passing through 
untried experiences. At a sudden turn in the 
road we came upon a small Highland hotel 
nestling among the trees. I was taken by sur- 
prise to see an American flag waving from the 
gate post. It had been a number of weeks 
since I had seen the flag, and this was "Old 
Glory" dressed in beautiful silk, and it lent 
itself most gracefully to the Highland 
breezes. I never knew who put it there, but 
as I gazed upon it no one could have been 
more surprised than I was myself, to find the 
tears streaming down my cheeks. A person 
who has never been out of his own country 
is not prepared for the intense longing for it 
which comes over him at moments like this. 
The coach was full, but no one else seemed 
to notice the flag. As we drove on I thought 



292 



THE STORY OP A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

I heard a voice in front remark in a very un- 
interested tone: "Wasn't that the American 
flag?" I felt as if everybody ought to rise up 
in their seats and cheer, and here there were 
people who did not even know what that flag 
stood for. Those tears were left for the 
mountain breezes to dry while I hastened to 
turn my thoughts to the beajitiful scenery 
through which we were passing. It was up 
and down hill, through shade and sun, past 
lake and river. I was comforting myself the 
while with the thought that if all went well 
with us it would be but a few days before my 
eyes would be feasting upon the broad 
prairies of Iowa, where the corn fields which 
I had left in their infancy would now be rip- 
ening for the harvest. That day in the Tros- 
sachs was an eventful one. Scotch people 
occupied the seats all about me, and for some 
reason I was strung up to the highest pitch 
of sensitiveness to everything I saw. Once, 
when the coach cleared the woods, our eyes 
fell for the first time upon the glittering ex- 
panse of the beautiful little "Loch Achray." 
All the natives went into raptures over it. It 
was not a lack of aesthetic sense, but simply 
the aftermath of what I felt when I saw the 



293 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

flag, that prompted me to exclaim: "What a 
little bit of a lake! Ini my country it would 
hardly be considered large enough to name." 
The mild Scotch lady who was sitting beside 
me opened her eyes and gazed at me for a mo- 
ment in calm surprise, and then said: "Ah, 
that is America, I suppose! I hear they have 
everything on a grand scale in that countree!" 
(She pronounced it Ah-may-r-r-r-kah.) We 
stopped for a delightful dinner at the Tros- 
sachs hotel. Then loading up once more, it 
was but a short ride to the banks of Lake 
Katrine. The little steamer which was to 
take us across the lake was called "Rob Roy," 
and it was well crowded when all of the peo- 
ple in the coaches had been loaded into* it. 
"Ellen's Isle" was the first thing to greet my 
eyes when once we were afloat. It is much 
too small to meet the conditions of Scott's 
delightful poem, where 

"For retreat in dangerous hour 

Some chief had framed a rustic bower." 

But it was all the prettier for being small. 
As the boat sped on over the "burnished 
sheet of living gold" I fell into conversation 
with a Scotch gentleman. I find that this 
record is pointing to the sociability of the 

294 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

Scotch people. It is certainly true that I was 
treated with more real cordiality here than 
in any of the eight countries through which 
we passed. This gentleman asked me if I was 
enjoying the scenery. I replied that I was 
enjoying it very much; that it would be a pity 
if I did not do so, as I had come a long way to 
see it, viz.: from America. "Ah, madam," 
he said, "you did not need to tell me that; I 
knew you w^ere an American as soon as I saw 
you." It could not have been the theology 
this time, could it? 

He w T as a very interesting person, had trav- 
eled in America, and all over the world, and 
thought he knew some of my friends at home. 
He volunteered some interesting bits of infor- 
mation in regard to the country through 
which w r e were passing. Among those was 
the fact that this little lake supplied the 
water for the city of Glasgow, some fifty or 
more miles away. An immense number of 
gallons are drawn off each day, but the w r ater 
never decreases. Here we had a fine view of 
the "Bens," which had been hidden behind 
the clouds at Stirling. We went ashore at 
Stronaehlocher Pier, at the west end of the 
lake. After a short stop the coaches were 



295 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

again loaded up and went on, but I was left 
behind, as I had planned to spend the night 
there. It was very lonely and still after the 
crowd had gone. I took a long walk around 
the lake, then climbed one of the hills and sat 
until 

"The shades of eve came slowly down, 

The woods were wrapped in deeper brown," 

Then I returned to the hotel and enjoyed the 
moonlight shining on the lake until a late 
hour. 

The next day there was a ride from Stron- 
achlo'cher to Loch Lommond. It was much 
the same as the day before. I was fortunate 
enough to secure the front seat of the "band 
wagon" this time, and enjoyed the landscape 
to better advantage. I experienced the same 
delightful cordiality on the part of the people 
which I enjoyed the day before. Loch Lom- 
mond is larger than Loch Katrine, and al- 
though the steamer was larger, the lake was 
very rough, and the ride, on the whole, not so 
pleasant. 

After the "Trossachs" came a short stop at 
Glasgow. Glasgow is decidedly a commer- 
cial city, and reminded me of Chicago, with 
its business and bustle. The comparison is to 



296 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

the advantage of Chicago in one respect, at 
least, for Glasgow is full of beggars. I have 
not devoted much time to the beggars in Eu- 
rope, but they are there at every turn, and 
worthy of a special chapter. Glasgow is said 
to be the third city of Great Britain in wealth 
and population. But taking it as a whole, I 
did not enjoy it, for commercialism is no nov- 
elty to an American. We sometimes cross 
the water to get away from it. There 
is a fine university here, and I en- 
joyed an inspection of the magnificent 
buildings, but there were no students there 
at that time. The university is called the 
grandest modern building in Scotland. 
"George's Square" is an attractive place. It 
is a large open space containing statues of 
prominent persons. Among these are Scott, 
Peel, Pitt, Burns and others. I was particu- 
larly pleased with the equestrian statues of 
Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Queen 
"Vic" was represented as a young woman, 
and right proudly she reigns her fiery steed. 
There is a cathedral here, and a curious old 
burying ground called the "Necropolis." The 
old parts of the city lie close by the newer 
parts, and when riding through both of them 

297 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

one feels as if he had been in two different 
centuries inside of the same five minutes. 

From Glasgow it was only a few hours' 
ride to Liverpool, and the return ocean voy- 
age, which we had been alternately anticipat- 
ing and dreading all summer. We antici- 
pated it, because it would be taking us home, 
we dreaded it on account of the discomforts 
which might accompany it. 

After the usual excitement and waiting 
and handshaking at the wharf, we set sail at 
five o'clock in the afternoon. Not a single 
cloud dimmed the blue of the sky above us. 
But no sky could be freer from clouds than 
were our hearts that summer afternoon, for 
— we were — going home. The sun set in a 
clear sky, and the moon rose out of the water 
in a glory of brightness. 

On the whole, the return voyage was pleas- 
ant. The sun shone a good deal of the time, 
and the water was not so rough as before. 
Some of the passengers were those who went 
over with us, and seemed like old friends. 
There was the usual ship routine of a little 
reading, a good deal of eating, and walking 
the deck between times. 

Once the monotony was varied by a mag- 
nificent sunset. The declining orb set all the 

298 



THE STORY OF A EUROPEAN TOUR. 

little waves anil ripples which played about 
the boat into am ecstacy of shimmering and 
glittering, while all the horizon was suffused 
with a magnificent yet delicate pink. There 
was the usual ship concert, with some very 
ordinary music, and some very extraordinary 
speaking. There was a rainy day or two, and 
one day when the wind blew so that it was 
as much as ones life was worth to attempt to 
walk on deck; and then after a while there 
was — land. It was a good thing that it came 
gradually, like a little cloud at first, and 
finally taking definite shape as the shores of 
"my ain countries 

There is an intensity of pleasure which bor- 
ders closely upon pain. As we said "Good- 
bye" to the ocean steamer and those who had 
been our companions upon it, and turned our 
faces toward our western home, I realized 
that I was very near that border line. 



-Finis. — 



299 



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